


A Chance To Start Again

by eikoexe



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: 22k a chapter or so, Alternate Universe - Detectives, M/M, Mutual Pining, Work In Progress, alternating povs, and even seth fucking gordon, and everyone has their own importance to the story bc i love including ppl!, as you can tell it has lots of words, content warnings will be in the authors notes, even aaron you heathens, everyone matters in this fic, im not good at coming up with plot lines so bare with me here, it has angst/fluff/kinda smut soon but not explicit, kind of ooc andrew but theres reasoning for it, lots of pining, mid twenties kinda, not only that but murders n shit!, prepare yourselves, so this is basically just a sherlock au, some grammar mistakes and unidentifiable wording but like im human not a renown author, the boys are also older in this fic, the summary changes frequently and im not sorry about that, this isnt how i should tag but yall are getting it anyways, though theres canon deaths in this... sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 01:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 229,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11841318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikoexe/pseuds/eikoexe
Summary: Neil Josten was either wondering what he should say, or perhaps he was wary of the corpses in the room. Andrew didn't think the latter - he was probably used to it. And there were still many things he did not know.“You didn’t run.” Andrew pointed out.The male looked to Andrew, probably realising he was being observed from head to toe.He cleared his throat before shrugging. “Maybe I’m just too tired to run this time.”--Or alternatively, a Sherlock AU where instead of Johnlock solving crimes, we get our Andreil boys.





	1. Case 1: The Study In Pink

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was based on Season 1, Episode 1 of Sherlock. You don't need to have watched the show to understand it, so it's all good.
> 
> Content Warnings; Not much actually. No graphical scenes. It’s basically just a look through on how Andrew and Neil get along throughout their first case. The case itself deals with drugs, murders (obviously) and suicide. Near the end there is a scene of slight (and I mean slight) torture. Seth is also an asshole in here but a lovable guy who's an asshole. Dunno if he should be considered a warning, but I'll put him here just in case.
> 
> See the end of the notes if you want me to explain the adaptation of this series and a bloody long sypnosis of the "character backstory" without giving away too much context.
> 
> That is all, thanks! Hope you enjoy! Also special thanks to Arianne for dialogue help and Aiden for beta!

“The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Phillimore. Both dying in the same circumstances, different places. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Wymack will take questions now.” The police officer spoke up from the noise bombarding the press room. He passed the microphone onto the detective, who coughed to get the attention of the reporters. Many questions passed all at once, one would say was overwhelming. David Wymack knew better.

“Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?” One reporter asked over the others.

“Well, they all took the same poison from the forensic results. They were all found in places they had no reason to be and none of them had shown any prior indication of-” Wymack started but was cut off mid-sentence.

“But you can’t have serial suicides.” The reporter furrowed his eyebrows at the male. 

Wymack clicked his tongue. “Well, apparently you can.” 

“These three people… what is it that links them?”

“The link hasn't been found yet, but we are looking for it. There has to be one.” Wymack spoke in assurance. However, by the time he finished the sentence, all phones beeped simultaneously. Wymack looked up his own, seeing one simple text that he knew all too well. _Wrong,_ it simply stated. Wrong, his ass.

The other detectives and officers seemed to have all the same message from the look on their face and the glances they gave Wymack. No doubt about it, Wymack knew perfectly who it was. Every face in the room held the same tone, the same question on mind. Why? Why Wymack was a sucker for second chances. Why did he had to recruit a monster. Why he gave so much power to the male who didn't even work with them. It was obvious everybody thought the same, but the results from his team said otherwise. As much as it annoyed Wymack, they needed the biggot. 

The glances turned into something more a few seconds later. The moment a reporter would see the stares given from authorities, passed between one another from eye to eye, was the moment they knew the message meant something important. 

So silence turned into havoc. Shouts and protest over what it could possibly be overcame the conference.

Wymack needed a fucking break.

“If you’ve all got texts, please ignore them.” One of the officers called up, seeming rather annoyed. His knuckles were white on the table, gritted teeth to remain from shouting any further. The male's eyes were narrow, rigid and cold. Wymack's hoped Seth Gordon wouldn't make a fucking scene again, or he would have him personally bound to a chair for the next few cases.

One of the reporters scoffed their way. “But it just says, ‘Wrong’.”

Gordon rolled his eyes and shot the reporter who spoke a murderous glare. “Yeah, well, just ignore that.” He flashed his teeth. “Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Wymack, I’m going to bring this session to an end.” 

“But if they’re suicides, what are you investigating?” Reporter asked, making Gordon groan in response. He wasn’t entirely having a pleasant day, it seemed.

Wymack spoke up, “As I say, these...” He paused for a moment. “These suicides are clearly linked. It’s an unusual situation. We’ve got our best people investigating.”

The phones chimed again which everyone was more attentive of this time round, trying to see if the message cleared up their confusion. They seemed to be expecting more from the mysterious messenger. Then more commotion began. Wymack wished he was anywhere else than here. The message simply displayed another text of _Wrong_.

“Says, ‘Wrong’ again.” One stated the obvious. Wymack looked up at Gordon who didn’t seem too pleased at the message either. However, Gordon hated anybody and everybody in the vicinity, so he shouldn't compare specifics when it came to the younger male. Especially when Gordon had a major distaste for certain blond detectives.

“Okay! Fine. One more question, that's all.” Gordon told them all. A reporter raised their hands and Wymack nodded over to them.

“Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?”

Wymack waited a second. “I know that you like writing about these, but they do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The poison was clearly self-administered.” He said.

The same reporter who asked the question raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?”

Gordon chuckled a bit, it was more menacing than it was out of humor. “Well, don’t commit suicide.” All reporters looked to him in shock and Wymack rolled his eyes, resting his fingers on his temple.

“Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be.” Another message chimed. And _Wrong_ appeared on all officers phones yet again.

But Wymack’s phone took a moment longer to alert him to the text. And when he looked at it, the message was different.

_You know where to find me. - AJM._

Looking exasperated, Wymack put the phone into his pocket and began to stand up. He waved a hand in dismissal for the reporters to leave and for his detectives and officers to take a break or go back to their assigned posts. “Thank you. That will be all.” He said and walked away from all reporters and out of the conference room.

Damn fucking Minyard.

 

 

Andrew Minyard saw the news, he saw all the reporters, saw everything. Three dead bodies, probably suicides. Well, Wymack called it ' _probably suicides_ '.

They were all wrong.

Andrew thought it couldn’t just be sudden coincidences. No. There was something more.

He paced around the house, looking at all the files for the three dead people. The cases seemed normal, seemed like innocent, little, self-committing suicides. There was nothing wrong with the suspects, there were no links. Yet, all these people seemed to have happy lives. Didn’t seem depressed. So what would be the cause of such a way of self harm?

They had to be linked. Wymack just couldn’t see it. What a pity to not be able to see something so obvious.

He fiddled with the hems of the files in hand, and flipped quickly through each one. His fingers skimming the words on the pages, his eyes roaming around for any sight of a clue. There was something. Something they had just missed.

Andrew looked at his phone impatiently as he lied down on his couch. Clicking the home button on and off, as if it would make the messages appear faster. He hated calling, hated texting. Hated phones in general. But when it was needed, in times like these, he was deperate enough to find something new. To see what would happen. To see if they could solve another case, or if it was worth his while.

It finally chimed and Andrew raised an eyebrow, getting up from the couch, he went over to the front entrance of his appartment and grabbed his coat and scarf for the cold weather.

London was often cold, especially in November, but he cared less about the rain, the possibility of snow, and more about what went on in the alleyways or the hidden buildings people kept a blind eye to.

Grabbing his keys on the kitchen counter, Andrew left his apartment, locking the door behind him. He made sure everything was in place before heading over to the Morgue. 

He had a very important appointment with Renee, after all.

He walked towards his car, getting inside and checking the mirror to reverse out of his spot. He would admit, that he almost crashed into civilians as he drove towards Barts Hospital.

He doesn't know how many times he had cursed over civilians, but it was more than his fingers, that was for sure.

They pretend they knew what was going on in the real world. But the real world was cruel. And the ones who seeked pity, did not know the half of it. It just slipped their minds all the time. A shame that they were oblivious, simple-minded creatures. Everything Andrew was raised not to be. What he wasn’t, what he never would become. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to live a life such as them. Something with less violence, less stress, a future worth living. Getting to breath every morning, instead of collapsing into another set of dreams he wished to erase. Demons crawling over his skin as he tried to thrash away.

Yet he found this way… almost more thrilling. More enticing. It was what let him feel better in some sort of way. The same feel of someone gazing over a skyscrapper in a cloudy London afternoon. Something you wouldn't normally do, but was so tempting in the moment. The urge to just lean and watch below. As if brains were functioned for curiostiy, leading only but to death. Andrew perseved the world as such. Better than what he was used to in the past, when there was no skyscrapper but just a fall. So he didn't care for the consequences, didn't care for the collateral damage he was. He cared for results.

When he was done cursing the cars around him, and the civilians in his way, Andrew found himself in the parking lot of Barts.

Inside, he passed through the front desk, rapping his fingers on the table. Waiting for the woman to let him in. She did eventually, which could have taken a little less longer. If only she wasn’t caught up with the distractions surrounding her. Phone, checking herself out in the mirror - lips way too chapped, but that was more of a sidenote - texting her ex-boyfriend to which she was still desperate for and pining after something she couldn't have. However, the signs were clear. She was possessive, couldn't stop fiddling with her phone for a text and the look she was giving, the fury in her eyes, twitch of her nose, sleepless tone, and the crease in the brow. It was all there.

But Andrew ignored it, ignored her. She was unimportant. They all were in the end.

Reaching through the hallway, and through a large set of doors, Renee Walker was sitting in the Morgue just in front of Ansrew. Without being invited inside the room, he went in. He knew Renee was expecting him either way and she wouldn’t mind his company.

She did call for him after all. And Andrew needed her assistance.

Renee was in custody of one of the three dead bodies. He had asked her earlier on to message him when she found something, or was assigned to deal with the remains of the so-called-suicides. A day later, she did.

Renee smiled up when she saw the shorter male. “Andrew.” She said, calmly.

“Renee.” Andrew replied.

Shortly after their small greeting, Renee guided Andrew towards the body. They knew their routine, and they kept well to it.

She removed the bag which covered the decaying corpse in a white rag. The corpse was lying on its back on the metallic table, mid room. Andrew stared up at the woman who would no longer wake up, hitting the sides of her skin slightly for bruises and observed the surrounding of every inch of the used-to-be female.

“This was the most recent.” Renee spoke up. “It came in this morning, it’s the death of the woman who was found at the club just yesterday. The other two are in the back. Both the street boy, and the man in the skyscraper building.” Andrew simply lifted the arm of the corpse and rested it back down, observing.

There was a small silence before Renee spoke up again when Andrew said nothing to initiate questions or information. “Did you find a housemate yet?” To this, Andrew looked up at her. What a fast change in topic for a mild pause in the conversation.

“I told you I don’t need one.” He said.

“It would be good for you, Andrew.” She replied with a small smile. Andrew ignored her comment. It didn’t hurt Renee, she simply chuckled a little bit at his way of dismissal. This was their relation. They both understood each other. And that was all they needed.

Her childhood was brutal, so now to make up for her crimes, she decided to help out with them instead. The Morgue was her preferred area, she knew the body like nobody else did. Ironically, this was how they met. Him doing what he did best, and the same for Renee. 

“I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man’s alibi depends on it. Text me.” Andrew said.

“I’ll text.” She said, Andrew knew she would. He didn’t say any more, and Renee sighed. “And I’ll get you coffee.”

“Sugar.” Andrew reminded her, Renee chuckled as she never forgot, leaving Andrew alone to the body on the counter.

Andrew took one more glance to the body, sampling some hair and skin cells for keeping. Watching the body itself got boring after a while, as the dead didn't entirely do anything 'fun'. Decaying corpse were only fun when nobody knew what was the cause of death, or if it was involved in a case that were more than just poison and potential suicides.

He moved to the next room over, a lab in which he could inspect the cells taken. Seeing if anything bizarre would come up. He took some samples from Renee's tray, knowing she wouldn't mind if he took a look and tried to find something she probably would have missed otherwise. He prepared the light, the beakers, the microscope. Everything needed to help him do the lab. He stood at the far end of the lab table, using a pipette to squeeze a few drops of liquid onto a Petri dish.

The laboratory was quiet. Clean, efficient and organised. Most people ended up being intimidated by it. Andrew didn't understand why they were thought so over a building. But he had no say, he had metaphors with skyscrapers. He simply liked spending time in labs, something more secure than open air. Something else to distract him from the constant nagging. He majored in criminology, but he used chemistry as an elective and missed creating and learning the formulas, the reactions, the mental process. It held little to no teamwork. Silence was a virtue. All but the hums of the machine in the background.

Yet, Andrew almost dropped the cells as he heard commotion from outside.

It didn't sound like much, but in Bart's, nothing ever happened. It was usually elderly people coming in for a checkup - or how Andrew liked to call it, the 'Will I Die Today?' question. However, the noise didn't sound like the normal banter between patients (perhaps sometimes visitors). No. There was swearing, crashing and shouting. It seemed more like somebody was having a fit, and because of Andrew's boredom, because of the wait, the impatience and curiosity grew further. He was rather in the mood for something fun to watch. Especially when they were brutal. And if it came to it, he could stop whatever the ruckus was in order to focus on his work.

A few minutes passed, and Andrew peaked out from the Morgue to see doctors scattering around a young male. Said younger male scowled at them all and tried to walk away but was blocked by one of the other doctors and officer. 

“Let me leave.” The man warned the doctors who seemed in between frightened, confused and annoyed. Andrew raised an eyebrow and walked closer to the scene.

“We won’t hesitate to use force on you.” The officer spoke but the addressed male just scoffed.

“You can try, but I still won't say anything. You understand in a hospital you are supposed to help a patient, and not demand why they are hurt. Perhaps if it were something internal, but cuts and bruises? I honestly doubt that. I don't even know why I am here, you forced me to come for what? A band-aid? You stupid nonces probably just wanted me to say whatever you want to hear and then go off and tell whatever the fuck his name is,” He pointed to a man in a suit. "And get rid of me for good. If you can't appreciate my attitude, doesn't mean you have to bloody cuff me to a bed so I don't run off. But guess what, I said nothing to fuck-face over there, so makes you think you are all different? Because you help people and save lives? Well fuck that, fuck you, I'm allowed to leave if I want to."

“Let them clean you up at least.” The suited man's nose flared, realizing too soon that this boy was causing a distraction to the other patients. He frowned and made a motion to move the conversation elsewhere, yet this guy didn’t budge. Andrew soon saw a glimpse of the male’s face and it wasn't exactly pretty. Actually on the contrary, the man _himself_ was pretty. What was left of it that is - wasn’t. He seemed to have large slashes over his face and bruises all over. They would form nasty scars and a good patch-up for the next few weeks - anything could have been underneath. But with minor calculation, Andrew reckoned it was burns. On top of that, he wondered if the rest of the male's body was as bad as his face. Not to mention Andrew also wondered what had happened for the young male to be cuffed to a bed. Let alone escape.

The young male laughed. “No. You just want to leave somewhere where nobody else can hear. Where there will be no witnesses and nobody to open doors for me as I run out in presumable fear. Well do I got news for you pal, I’m not going to say anything to the likes of you.” The male raised his chin which was probably to look in the eyes of the suited man and not at all in a threatening way. He wasn’t as short as Andrew, but was still relatively close to his height. Not to mention the officer had a good few inches on him. 

Yet the latter looked confused for a second, as if the information had just sunk in. “Wait, you were cuffed to a bed. How the fuck did you get the cuffs off?” At this, the other male’s constant sneer turned into a smile. Andrew wondered the same. 

“I tell you that, and then my secret will be exposed. I like leaving people to think. But since you’re a biggot, I think you prefer logical reasons, shame you aren't getting any.” He said, Andrew raised an eyebrow, this was just getting more interesting. Well, more interesting than a dead corpse in the Morgue or a lab report that was now leading to nowhere.

“Don’t fuck with me, kid.” The seeming runaway frowned at the suited man's choice of words. The words not only impacted the young bloke, but Andrew's mouth was slightly parted in understanding.

He didn’t waste any more time in watching the scene unravel. His interest was always peaked, and he had a small idea on what was happening. He wasn't glad that it happened here in the hospital's wing, but the fact that Andrew fell between a scene this... different, he had to assume it was his lucky day. "What seems to be the problem here?” He smiled fearlessly and stood in between the two.

“And just who may you be?” Suited man asked.

“It’s best if you both get a room, people may think some tension is going on between the two of you. We wouldn’t want that do we? People talk.” He mused, looking to the kid with a sour look.

“This isn’t of your concern.” Suited man snarled. 

“And yet here I am.” Andrew’s smile didn’t falter. When the suited man didn’t offer one back, silence ensued. Andrew sighed and took out a detective’s badge. Yet still no smile on the officer’s face. “Detective Minyard. Follow me. Commotion isn’t good for anyone.”

With a quick wave of his fingers, Andrew started walking down to a room he knew didn’t have any occupants. He also knew the other two would follow. Well, Andrew knew the suited man would come, the other male was surprising. 

Once he looked back at the two, the suited man fiercely observed their new arrival. “This isn’t a case for you to solve. It's my own.”

“Is it not? I was certain there was a case assigned to the Wesninski family a couple year ago. Which ended up incompleted.” Andrew told him, mentally noting that this man surely didn't look like an officer so he presumed he wasn't in that department, especially for a kid like Nathaniel Wesninski.

Andrew saw in the corner of the his eye that Wesninski tensed up from the statement, looking like he wasn't sure whether to respond or not. He didn't expect Andrew to know about him, and Andrew counted that as a win gathering it had finally shut the male up from his snarky attitude. However, Wesninski looked as if he was going to burst through the windows and run. Andrew had to keep this up so that possibility wouldn't happen, he couldn't lose the only value he had for solving one of the longest and hardest cases known to London.

The Wesninski family, more or less Nathan Wesninski himself, was a murderer of thousands of people, yet was never caught, never seen, never heard of expect for the remains he leaves, unidentifiable and useless in his capture. His son was a missing man, wanted by both the FBI and his own father. Due to it being crucial to find the boy, it was a chase to find and retrieve him. Whoever found Nathaniel first was the one who could have more information in capturing Nathan Wesninski, or simply, if it were daddy dearest winning the glory, would have their son back and kill him once and for all. All but considering Nathaniel would have been the only heir to the Butcher. His capture, whether it be the FBI or the Wesninski circle, was something Andrew didn't want to be apart of, especially because he didn't know much about the kid himself. He was just as hard to find as his father, whereabouts never known. Face never identified. It was a useless chase. Andrew hated Wymack for putting him up for it.

Well, not until now. 

In the end, this case and information was only known to five people all together. The FBI agency, the Queen, Andrew's brother, Chief Inspector Wymack and Andrew himself. This officer right here didn't fit in five of the categories, so the deduction was simple.

“How did you know he was a Wesninski?” The FBI officer asked Andrew, wary of the blond and what he knew.

“I’ve worked on this case before, I know things. He doesn’t just look homeless, he looks like a runner. Considering the clothes, creases folded in a hurry and dirty stains from sewage water and soil, he's been sleeping down below for a while. Keeping low for his father. Heard there was a son who escaped his clutches after all. Contacts are clear from the dilated pupils when in contact with different light settings, rims can be seen that they are not supposedly brown. Auburn hair, recently dyed, you can tell from the texture and tints of dark around split-ends. He wanted to have dyed it, but he didn't have time. Not unless it was under his will. A Wesninski, indeed. Or just a running Weasley. Rest was a guess, but from your reaction it was a good one. Now only one thing remains, Nathaniel is presumably dead. But he seems pretty alive to me. Where did you find him? The trash?”

“His father is dead. We found Nathaniel in his clutches, they probably found him before we even could. An anonymous call said there was comotion found in their former house. We shot the bastard and his circle and took Nathaniel back.” He summarized, and Andrew nodded at his will to obey questions. Not a good FBI, was he?

“The circle is not dead, you fuck.” Wesninski spat.

This peaked interest. “Oh? They're not? Then why does the kid say otherwise?” Andrew asked the agent. “If you are lying to me, you should know that I do not appreciate liars.”

“Fuck you, I’m not a kid.” Wesninski spat again.

Andrew ignored him. The man frowned even more aw Andrew continued, “Well I don’t care if the Butcher or his buddies are dead or alive. I don't care about anything at all actually. Just interested in why he was so easily captured. Did you bribe him or something?” He tapped his fingers onto the wall besides him, impatiently waiting for an answer that didn't so anger him. Andrew noticed Wesninski didn’t look up at him, but at his arm. Specifically what was hidden behind bands. Andrew raised an eyebrow.

The officer continued. “He was bleeding bad when we found him. He was hysterical and on the brink of being unconscious. We took him in the hospital in his state, so he'd be cleaned up and compatible to speak to. To make sure he didn't run off, we improvised.”

Wesninski didn’t like his answer which Andrew knew wasn’t the whole truth. But by the look Wesninski was giving, it was close enough to hit hard.

“That’s enough there.” Andrew at least knew what it felt like to be exposed so suddenly to strangers. “Is he in custody?”

“He’s in questioning for now.”

“By whom?”

“By me. Agent Browning.” The officer held eye contact with Andrew. Andrew didn’t look away.

“Let me handle it, I’ll take the case.”

“No-”

“Don’t even start. Technically, and legally, I was assigned to the Wesninskis. It just didn’t take my interest back then nor did I ever want to continue it. It was troublesome. Now we have the kid, it’s easier to assess the information back to me so we can find the Butcher's men. Even if Nathan is dead, his circle isn't. They'd be wanting the son back. I guess it leaves you and I no choice. He'll be sticking by my side the whole time.”

Wesninski didn’t say anything to stop Andrew, but his face was filled with shock and surprise. He presumed it was because he knew he would be interrogated either way, that he was caught and could be a reliable source to the possible deaths caused by his father. Yet to be sided with Andrew, Wesninski seemed wary of it.

But was he willing to talk? Andrew had only but to wait.

The agent sighed. “Fine. The case is secured however, nobody else should know about it besides the people in this room and a couple officers who swore to secrecy.”

“Secrecy, huh? Is he really that important for even your fellow colleagues to not know who he is? They’ll figure it out eventually. That commotion you did back there? As I said, _people talk_.”

“They’ll pass it off as a kid having a tantrum about his annual shot or something.”

Andrew knew they wouldn’t think that with the state Wesninski was in. But he let Browning hope for the sake of his people.

“Get him cleaned up then send him into the Morgue.” The agent scowled at Andrew. “What? I’ll question him in there. I do have other cases and a somewhat job to do.” Andrew then looked back at Wesninski and grinned. “Don’t run, Nathaniel.”

“Neil.” He said through gritted teeth.

“What?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“My name is Neil Josten. Don’t call me by my father's name.” Andrew stared at him.

“He had to make an alias in order for his name not be out in the open. Josten it was.” Officer Browning spoke up on the younger male's behalf.

“Alright, Josten. See you in a couple minutes. Maybe hours. You sure look like you’ve been run over with a truck about 50 times so I’m not sure how long it will take for you to look presentable. Perhaps then, with a pretty face, we can talk.”

“I’m glad my appearance needs to be presentable for you to be able to talk to me.”

“It’s common courtesy.” Andrew shrugged.

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be, it’s not every day I help someone out.”

“This isn’t helping. I’m just part of a job.”

Andrew huffed. “Obviously, so don’t step out of line. You do what I say and what I’m telling you is to stop running until this is over. Until we let you go, and until everything's A-okay in my book.” And with that, Andrew left the room. Presumably, Browning would treat Josten to spare clothes and soap.

Heading back to the Morgue, Andrew came up with all the question he would ask the guy. And probable answers he would give Josten as a fair trade.

And even perhaps a deal could be taken up between both males.

 

 

When arriving with the joy of seeing dead bodies lying in the room, Renee gave Andrew a questionable look. “The coffee is cold. Where did you go that was interesting enough to keep your sight away from the body at hand?”

“A rabbit.” Andrew didn’t elaborate.

Renee hummed, giving the coffee to Andrew. It wasn’t as cold as she claimed it to be. Andrew didn’t mind, he didn’t care, he only needed the caffeine and sugar. “Find anything unordinary with the cells?” Renee asked.

“Has the body started bruising?”

“I said I would text you if it did.” She answered as she sipped the rest of her cup away.

After a few minutes, Andrew waited in the lab, sitting on an empty table as he looked at the dead body on the slab in front of him. He had to wait until the body began to change - _if_ it did. However, his thoughts were disturbed by the room doors bursting open. Josten was seen standing there, looking more cleaner with new stitches on his face, a couple bandages and gauze. The blood was washed off leaving on an aftermath of a mean bruise - which, yes, looked nasty but seemingly more approachable than before, even if he was still dirty from the lack of new clothes Browning forgot. But the damages where cleaned up.

Despite _looking_ more comfortable, Neil Josten was quite the opposite in the situation he was in. Even if it were just two people, the aura resonating off those in the room caused many alarms in his small fractured head. It was also what made Andrew and Renee good at their jobs. Josten was either wondering what he should say, or perhaps he was wary of the corpses in front of him. Andrew didn't think the latter - he was probably used to it.

“You didn’t run.” Andrew pointed out.

The male looked to Andrew, probably realising he was being observed from head to toe.

He cleared his throat before shrugging. “Maybe I’m just too tired to run this time.”

“Maybe because you were forced to be here, or something caught your interest as much as it did mine.” Andrew took the gloves off his hands, those currently used to inspect the now-disregarded cells. He threw the gloves in the nearby bin and hopped off the highchair. Renee raised an eyebrow, Andrew didn’t explain but his look was enough to satisfy her. “Renee, if you may.” She understood the message and left the lab, smiling.

“I want to make a deal.”

“I don’t make deals.”

Andrew continued anyways. “I won’t interrogate you in the sense where I give all your secrets away to the cops. I’m a detective, consulting detective. I don’t associate with any of the officers, and I am not paid to do this. I am only there when they need help because sometimes - which is often - their simple brains can’t process a scene when they see one. So when I say I’ll ask questions, you give it to me. You will remain anonymous and I will give you a place to live in the meantime with all the protection necessary.”

“What makes you say I’ll take that deal?” Josten walked closer into the morgue, inspecting the body laid out in front of him which was the only thing separating him and Andrew.

The latter narrowed his eyes as Josten inspected a jar of something that looked a lot like fingers. “You are in need of a shower. Wouldn’t that be nice?” He told him.

“There’s always other places.”

“Oh that's fine then, I’ll just give you up to Browning.”

Josten tensed up. “How can I trust you?” He asked, putting down the jar.

“Truth for a truth.”

Josten was silent for a moment. “I," He started, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t understand.”

Andrew scoffed. “Not that smart, I take it? I ask you a question, you give me a truth and in return you ask a question and I’ll give you a truth in retaliation. That clear everything up? It’s a fair trade. Another fair trade; I’ll give you a place to live, you be my companion.”

“Companion?”

Andrew rolled his eyes and explained. “Yes, I need you in my sight. I did promise that pig, didn’t I? And the only thing you should know about me, is I never break a promise. Don’t want you running away from me now, do I? So you stick with me and you can have all the free showers and food you want. Bed will be a problem though, wasn’t expecting any guests. I do have a quite comfortable couch on the other hand.”

“What do you do? You said something about being a detective, right?”

“Consulting.” Andrew corrected. Josten seemed confused as to what the difference may be. “It’s not a job, I don’t get paid to be there. When they are in need for the only help they can get; I’ll fill in all the blanks they obviously missed. I do it for my own goods, and simply for myself, often in order to be less bored. It’s thrilling.”

“If you don’t work there, how do you have a badge?” Josten raised an eyebrow.

“That? Oh, I stole it off an acquaintance for whenever I want to sneak somewhere I can’t go. If I just say I'm a consulting detective, they'll think I'm lying. Fake badge it is. Gets me free coffee sometimes.”

Josten stayed quiet for a bit. “I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?”

“You do. Anybody would love to get their hands on you, and everyone has a choice. Just a matter of principal before you see the right from wrong.”

Josten held in a breath and looked away. “So what is your question?”

Andrew waited a while, knowing exaclty what he was going to say but used a dramatic pause to see the male tense up. “How old are you?” At this, Josten scoffed.

“No ‘where is your father’?” He asked. Andrew just stared at him, waiting for an answer. There was a short silence before finally, Josten said, “23.” Andrew was only two year older than he was, he thought he'd be much younger than that. Humming, Andrew didn’t say more. “Anything else?” Josten ran his hands over a couple beakers on the table, slightly skimming them so they wouldn't fall over.

“I’m not interested now.” Andrew cut Josten off from what he was going to say in retaliation. “Let’s get sorted now shall we? I’m done here. Follow along and I’ll show you your suite. Not much of a suite though, more of a run down apartment.”

Andrew grabbed his coat and wondered if Josten had one of his own. The answer was obvious. Like hell he didn't.

 

 

Andrew opened the door to the apartment of 221B Baker Street. Josten was looking around all over the place, Andrew guessed he wasn't looking at the rooms itself but more on finding ways to escape. He’d give him credit for the act of being impressed, but Andrew saw through almost anything. Body language said it all and Josten wasn't that good at hiding things. Yet there was still so much he didn't _know_. A life on the run can only lead up to many things, and most of those things were ways to survive this cruel world. Especially for people like them.

Andrew noticed how he referred to them as if they were similar. Unlikely.

“Are you good at anything?” Andrew spoke up for the first time since they entered his small apartment. 

“Why do you want to know?” Josten side-eyed him.

Andrew huffed. “If you are going to be by my side, you may as well be useful in something.”

Josten looked to the side in thought. “Locks. I can get myself around some languages. I like running, but you knew that already it seemed.” He shrugged.

Andrew nodded with or without interest, he would figure that out when the time came.

Walking towards the kitchen, Andrew began to prepare the man a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Shower is in the hallway. I hope you have better clothes in that bag than what you are wearing right now.” He pointed at the small bag Josten was holding, which didn’t seem like there was much in it. Probably just the essentials he needed in order to survive - meaning everything he owned. His own little home in a duffel bag.

Josten didn’t say anything and just walked through the hallway.

By the time he came back out, he was more clean and the grease from his hair was gone, not messy nor knotted. Even some auburn tints of his head became exposed by his roots from the lack of keeping it dyed. His clothes were new and cleaned, appearing to be another ser of the same clothes from his duffel, keeping the same sweater and sweatpants routine.

Andrew nudged him towards the sandwich on the table, and he took it, beginning to eat. Andrew was a decent enough person to let Josten stay comfortable at his place. He put on a duvet over the sofa, and clicked on the TV which played a new match of Exy. Andrew had no interest in it, apart from when he played it a little bit in college. Josten seemed to be glued to the television though, seeming invested enough.

Finally, Andrew declared he would head to bed. Ordered Josten not the run, who just shrugged him off. “I’m serious. I’ll send troops.”

Josten rolled his eyes when Andrew apparently didn't leave yet, waiting for a response. “And I’m serious that I’ll stay. My father's men could be anywhere out in the city. We made a deal, I owe you some answers. If I leave, I'd still have to owe you something, and I don't like owing people things.” Andrew stared at him then hummed, satisfied.

 

 

A woman came in the next morning, and was surprised to see Josten eating breakfast at Andrew’s table. Josten had the same expression she did, but with more fright from someone else being in the room. Andrew wanted to rub that expression off his face. 

“Andrew, you have a guest.” The woman gasped.

“Great, you’re here!” Andrew smiled at her. “I was wondering if you died. It would have been a shame. Josten, this is Betsy Dobson, the landlady. Also my former therapist. She gave me a deal in order to live here. Bee, this is Neil Josten.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Josten. Or would you like it to just be Neil?”

Josten stared at the lady and just continued to eat his cereal without saying a word.

“He’s shy.” Andrew whispered but Josten still heard either way and glared. Bee smiled slightly.

“I’m happy for you, Andrew.” She said and Andrew waved a hand in dismissal.

“He’ll be staying here for a while, if you don’t mind. I’m sure he won’t be any trouble, however I can’t promise you that.” He said and Bee nodded.

There was silence as Josten ate his breakfast, Andrew paced around the room as if waiting, and Bee looked up at the newspaper that was laying on the counter besides dozens of files that contained cases from the past and present. Her eyebrows furrowed at the latest article. “What about these suicides then? Any leads? They seem right up your alley. Three exactly the same.”

“Four.” Andrew corrected and looked over the window where a car was parking just outside his place. Huffing at the time, Andrew took back his coat he recently just hung up and flung it around his shoulders, shrugged into it, readjusting the collar and hems. “And I have a feeling there’s something different this time.” He stated. Josten looked at him suspiciously as he did so, and Andrew lifted his head up at the male who seemed to have just finished his meal, nudging for him to get up. Josten sighed and complied.

Bee looked confused at the sudden outburst, but knew too well of Andrew to question it. So the two males went downstairs to greet detective David Wymack who didn't even have time to knock on the door before Andrew swung it open.

“You aren’t human.” Wymack told him.

Andrew ignored his statement and asked, “Where?”

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.”

Andrew straightened his arm bands under his coat. “What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.”

Wymack rolled his eyes. “Typical as always I see. You know how they never leave notes?” Andrew nodded and his eyes grew with interest. “This one did.”  After a brief moment, Wymack looked passed Andrew and pointed at the male who seemed interested in their conversation, yet saying nothing at all. “Who’s the kid?” 

“My new partner in crime. He will be helping me out on the case.” Wymack raised an eyebrow. Andrew ignored him. “Who’s on forensics?”

“Boyd and Gordon.”

Andrew groaned. "Gordon?"

“Will you come or not? I’ll give you a ride.”

Andrew made no comment about it and simply shooed Wymack off, with a: "See you then, Chief.” Unpleased, Wymack left Andrew and Josten alone once more.

Josten looked to Andrew, who tapped his fingers on the wall while searching for indications of the location online. “You're staring.” Andrew pointed out, not lifting his gaze from his phone.

“How are you a detective with such a shitty attitude?” Josten slightly smiled, pretending he didn't.

“Honestly, it could be because I am filled with sunshine and rainbows. Quite literally actually.” Josten seemed like he didn’t understand, rolling his eyes from Andrew’s answer. Andrew left it at that. They both didn’t speak much more as they got into Andrew’s car and left to the location Wymack spoke of.

 

 

The building itself was grand. Andrew looked around where police tape was secured around the place, and many cars and officers were around guarding the crime scene. Or the house. Either one. Yet Josten seemed out of place from the busy bodies and the attired wear. Even Andrew had a black trench coat and a white blouse underneath, better than Josten's hobo look. Josten probably didn't even care for his looks, but seemed uncomfortable with all the police officers so he probaly thought his look would give him more attention. Andrew wanted to reassure him that they didn’t know who he was when a Wesninski was on the line. However, Josten spoke up before Andrew could ask him to stop feeling threatened. “What exactly should I be doing here?” He asked.

“Smile and be nice, just stay by my side, that’s all I’m asking of you right now.” Andrew told him.

Andrew stopped mid track as Seth Gordon himself appeared in front of him, flashing Andrew a grin which Gordon probably thought was menacing on his behalf. Andrew had seen menacing in his days and Gordon never fit the appeal. He was more of a broody person who only liked being right, and convincing others were wrong even though his idea of an opinion made no sense at all. Basically, he was an asshole and that’s coming from everybody Andrew knew - including himself. ”Hello, _monster_.” Gordon spat when seeing Andrew.

Andrew waved him off. “No interest in conversation, Gordon. I’m here to see Wymack.”

“Why?” Gordon scowled.

“Because I was invited.”

“Why?” Gordon said again to which Andrew just flicked him off. “Okay, whatever. Who’s this?” He pointed at Josten who looked as if he didn’t like being addressed. Andrew wondered why Gordon was so nosy today. Or any day actually.

“Josten. He’s my companion for the case.” He briefed it up.

Gordon laughed loudly enough for others to hear. They looked for a second to see what was going on before returning to their posts. “You have friends? What a fucking laugh. Honestly how much did he pay you? Bet you he treats you real fucking nice. Judging by the bruises on your face it seems.” Gordon sneered.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Oh? But you don’t, because your blonde left you quite recently. What a pity. Guess she didn’t exactly mention where she was leaving to. I’m sure she’ll come back eventually.” Andrew gave Gordon a deadpanned look. Gordon just scowled at him in return. Josten looked up at the two but said nothing. Andrew noticed that he wasn’t a public speaker. Not with Bee. Nor with Wymack either. Especially not with Gordon, which was more or less unsurprising.

Ignoring the male in front of him once again, Andrew walked towards the entrance of the building, Gordon snarling on his way there from behind him. Andrew saw Matthew Boyd talking to a couple officers and sent them off to their own duties - just who Andrew was hoping to see. “Monster’s here. Bringing him in.” Gordon said to the male and walked away, giving his middle finger at the blond. 

“Boyd. Here we are again.” He greeted. The addressed man grinned up at him. He was quite taller, and more hyper than Andrew could ever be. But he was a good man to say the least. They had their moments and a mutual understanding.

“Minyard, what a surprise. Who’s the arm candy?”

“Boyd, Josten. Josten, Boyd. There, introduction over. I need my stats.”

“Yo, kid. You sure you’ll be alright with this guy? Blink once if he’s keeping you hostage.” Boyd smiled at Josten. Andrew was intrigued by how Josten seemed to ease more as Boyd spoke, unlike how he did with Gordon. 

“I’m fine.” Josten said, quietly. That was probably the first word he ever said to anybody apart from Andrew himself.

“That looks nasty. How did you get it?” Boyd said, pointing a finger exaggeratedly at Josten’s face. Cuts, bruises, scars. It wasn't the prettiest, but it showed what Josten had been through before he came to Andrew.

Josten simply looked at Boyd blankly, no emotion towards the comment. “I fell.” He said. 

“Don’t be nosy now, Boyd.” Andrew stopped him there before Josten felt uncomfortable. “I just need Wymack, where is he?”

“Yeah, yeah. Conversation isn’t your forte, is it?” Boyd gave them both a pair of gloves. Josten put his on and Andrew followed, more concentrated on the distraction Josten was using to avoid talking. Putting on his gloves longer than it should take and stretching the hems out a bit, trying to adjust them. Body language said it all.

Wymack came around shortly after, he gestured for them to go upstairs, and Andrew followed suite with Josten and Boyd just behind. He led the boys up a circular staircase where the crime scene seemed to be. The room was empty of furniture except for a rocking horse in the far corner, with white walls and a wooden floor. Windows were sealed off with a thin plastic film roll, all so the sunlight would come in but it would be blurry from the veil. It made the place more eerie than it should be, gathering it was a crime scene and someone had just died. The place was clean, no dust on the floor and everything almost white. However, there was a dead body on the floor. And Andrew paused at the door, checking it out from afar. ”I can give you two minutes.” Wymack told him.

Andrew's head titled back to Wymack. “May need longer.” And then he thought he heard a huff from Josten, what may be a small smile across his lips. Funny - he actually had emotions.

Boyd started explaining the stats of the case. “Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her here.” He said as they observed the scene around them.

Andrew peered over the room as if he was inspecting every top and every corner, all to the dead body in front of him. A woman, obvious. Lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room, wearing a bright pink overcoat and high heeled pink shoes. Andrew wondered if she knew any other colors, but he couldn’t judge. All he wore was black after all. Her hands were flat on the floor, at either side of her head. Andrew walked a few steps into the room and then stopped, focusing on the woman. Behind him, Josten looked at the woman’s body and his face filled with something Andrew wouldn’t quite figure out.

The four of them stood there silently for several long seconds, then Andrew looked across to Wymack.

“Shut up.” He narrowed his eyes. Wymack looked offended.

“I didn’t say anything.” He said.

“You were thinking. It’s annoying.” He deadpanned.

As Wymack backed away a bit annoyed, Andrew’s attention immediately changed when he noticed the floorboards were scratched near the woman’s left hand. Probably written with the tips of her finger nails. All it said was the word 'Rache'. The woman’s index finger rested at the bottom of the ‘e’ as if she was still trying to carve into the floor when she had died.

“Left handed.” Andrew muttered to himself.

“Rache.” Josten spoke up, startling everybody in the room. “That’s German.”

“For revenge.” Andrew agreed, impressed. But it didn’t feel right. He looked at the carved word again and thought more on what she meant to write rather than what she wrote. “But possibly that isn’t the word we are looking for.” Josten looked up at him from the dead body. Andrew didn’t realise how close he was until he saw that Josten was leaning right next to him, observing the body. Wymack and Boyd on the other end of the room, just watching him trying to unravel the case. Probably couldn’t hear their muttered conversation from the distance, and the low murmurs they spoke. Andrew preferred it that way.

“Rachel” He whispered. Then Andrew ran his gloved hand along the back of her coat, lifting his hand again to look at his fingers. It was wet. He reached into her coat pockets and found a white folding umbrella in one of them. Running his fingers along the folds of the material, he inspected his glove again, and it was dry. Fascinating. Putting the folded umbrella back into her pocket, Andrew moved up to the collar of her coat and ran his fingers underneath it before, again, looking at his fingers. Wet again.

Reaching into his pocket he took out a small magnifier, clicked it open and closely inspected the delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist which remained clean as did the gold earring attached to her left ear and the gold chain around her neck. But the rings on her left ring finger, the wedding ring and engagement ring - they were both dirty.

“Married.” He said to Josten, but changed his mind. “Unhappily married for about 10 years.” Josten raised his eyebrows and Andrew just continued on his thoughts. Carefully Andrew worked the wedding ring off the woman’s finger and held it up to look at the inside. While the outside of the ring was dirty, the inner circle remained clean.

Josten came in quick this time. “Regularly removed.” He declared which made Andrew look up at him. Lifting his hands away from the woman, Andrew glanced down at her once more.

“Serial adulterer.” Andrew added on top.

Wymack interrupted their thought process. “Got anything?” He asked.

Andrew hummed, looking back at Wymack. “Not much.”

They both stood up. Andrew took out his phone from his pocket, looking up something online.

“She’s German. ‘Rache’. It’s German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something about revenge, right?” Boyd suggested. Andrew shook his head, but didn't elaborate.

“She was trying to write Rachel.” Josten stood in when Andrew didn’t explain.

“So she isn’t German?” Boyd asked.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Of course she isn’t. She’s from out of town, though. Intended to stay in London for one night,” Andrew smiled down at his phone which caused a lot of eyebrows to raise. “Before returning home to Cardiff.” He pocketed the phone and looked at Josten. “So far, so obvious.”

Josten scoffed. “Obvious?”

“Yeah, you seemed like you knew some stuff back there.” He pointed out. Josten seemed to take a keen interest in the wall to his left, avoiding eye contact.

Wymack interrupted their small silence. “What about the message, though?”

Andrew’s eyes glinted with interest. “What do you think, Josten?”

“Of the message?” Josten asked.

“Of the body.” Andrew corrected.

Andrew waited as Josten looked at him. "Asphyxiation." He finally replied. "Passed out, choked on her own vomit. I can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure? Possibly drugs though.” He said with small confidence. Andrew would need to change that, any instinct he could have may end up being a good one. Josten seemed to know the basics, and Andrew was coloured impressed.

“Ding ding ding, on the right track. But you know what it was, don’t you? You’ve read the papers.”

Josten’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? She’s one of the suicides? The fourth?”

Wymack looked at both of them and silently motioned for them to move on. Andrew sighed. “Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes. I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase.”

Wymack looked confused. “Suitcase?”

Josten seemed to be searching the room for a suitcase in the room with his eyes. Wymack just looked like he wanted to say something before Andrew shushed him. “Suitcase, yes. She’s been married at least ten years, but not happily. She’s had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married.”

“If you’re just making this up-” Wymack started but Andrew glared at him.

He pointed down at her left hand. “Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside. That means it’s regularly removed." He waved his hands around to prove a point. "The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work, just look at her nails." Andrew pointed out. "She doesn’t work with her hands, so what or rather _who_ does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover, she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple.” Andrew said calmly all the while Josten nodded at his deduction, hiding the fact that he was well damned impressed.

“So… Cardiff?” Wymack asked.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Boyd laughed. “It’s not obvious to me.”

Andrew looked at Josten to see if he’d intervene. He didn’t. So Andrew continued. “Her coat. It’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind." He made a motion and flipped up his own collar to prove his point. "She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused. Not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried." Andrew paused dramatically. "So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?” Andrew got his phone from his pocket and showed to the others what he was looking at earlier. It displayed the day’s weather for the southern part of Britain. “Cardiff.” He concluded.

Boyd still looked confused. “Why did you keep saying suitcase?”

Andrew then pointed at Boyd in the question. “Yes, where is it? She must have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is.”

“Question is, why did she wait until she was dying to write it?” Josten asked. Andrew looked at him with a tilt of his chin.

“How do you know she had a suitcase?” Wymack asked.

Andrew pointed down to the body. Her tights had small black splotches on the lower part of her right leg, pressing down against the ground as blood was beginning to coagulate. “Back of the right leg. There’s tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Nobody can get that splash pattern any other way than by a suitcase. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious, well could only be an overnight bag right? So we know she was staying for only one night.” Andrew squatted down by the woman’s body and examined the back of her legs more closely. “Now, where is it? What have you done with it?”

Boyd looked sadly at Andrew. “There wasn’t a case.”

Andrew’s head shot up. “Say that again?”

Wymack answered instead. “There wasn’t a case. There was never any suitcase.”

That was the call Andrew needed. He stood up and hurried out the room. “Suitcase. Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?” He shouted out to all the officers angrily. Boyd muttered an apology to anyone looking confused at the shorter blond male.

Wymack looked quite annoyed, however. “Minyard, there was no case!”

Andrew stopped to think. He pointed a finger at Josten, maybe because he was the first person in sight or maybe because he was the one who would understand his theories the best gathering from the looks everyone was giving him _but_ this young male. “But they take the poison themselves. They chew, swallow the pills themselves. They are clear signs. Even you couldn’t miss them.” Josten just stared back at him.

“Right, yeah, thanks. And...?” Wymack looked skeptical but curious.

Andrew rolled his eyes and groaned. “It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides, they’re killings – serial killings. We’ve got ourselves a serial killer. They are way more fun than suicides.”

“Why are you saying that?” Boyd asked at the same time Wymack said, “When do you ever have actual fun?”

Andrew pointed out. “Her case. Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it? Was someone else here, took her case?” He tapped his fingers on the nearby wall and continued to mutter words nobody understood, however Josten perked up at the change of language as if he knew what Andrew was saying. Andrew ignored him and continued to pace around. He stopped short, looking out the veiled window, the breeze blowing the curtain into the room and letting out a fresh breath of air. “My theory is that the killer must have driven her here and forgot the case was in the car.”

“She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there.” Josten suggested.

“No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She’d never have left any hotel with her hair still looking-” But he was cut off by his own thoughts. Oh. Interesting. Andrew’s face lit up and Josten raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what was going on inside his mind.

“Andrew?” He asked.

Andrew looked at Josten. “Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake.”

Wymack crossed his arms. “We can’t just _wait_.”

Andrew looked bored. “Oh, we’re done waiting.” He waved them off and started going down the stairs from the room. “Look at her,” Andrew said as he descended, which was more of statement since they were away from the scene. “Wymack, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff, find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel.” He continued and then went out of the building, leaving Wymack, Boyd and Josten to wonder.

Wymack face palmed. “Of course, yeah – but what fucking mistake?” Boyd shrugged. Josten only wondered in amazement and went after Andrew.

 

 

Neil didn’t know much about Minyard's life. He seemed occupied most of the time, either denying people of their cases and problems, or finding one of his own that he seemed mildly interested in.

And all this because Neil just fell in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet Minyard seemed to be there conveniently. Picking up the pieces Neil left behind, and currently trying to hold back. He never intended to get caught, more or less by his father. 

But Neil knew he wouldn’t be staying here long. He didn’t want to owe Minyard any favours. He offered him a good deal, he took him away from the officer. Neil had a place to stay, food and possibly a blond midget to entertain with his life story of murders and mysteries.

If his mother saw him now, she’d probably beat him to death.

Neil didn’t know whether or not this was a time in his life where he was granted a break, a free will to not be concerned. No fear of being caught. He wondered if Minyard had any other motives but he just seemed like a curious person, doing his so-called job and wanting to know Neil a bit more.

For the case, of course.

“Josten. If you aren’t doing something productive, order pizza.” Minyard said calmly through the room. The man himself didn’t look up at Neil, he just sat on the table with files surrounding his feet and a couple in hand. Neil wondered if that helped him think.

“Who said I wasn’t doing anything productive?” Neil raised an eyebrow. He wasn't, though.

“You are sitting on the sofa, been staring at me for the past 5 minutes. Is being a stalker your part-time hobby? Because that wasn’t on the application form to bring you inside my home.”

“Should you be worried?”

“Isn’t that my question to ask?”

Neil huffed what could be a laugh. Minyard was an asshole from the time Neil arrived and the according moment. He did nothing but bicker with Neil, but he also seemed to want Neil to stay. Silently asking Neil not to run. And maybe for once, Neil didn’t want to. “I don’t have a phone to order food.”

“That,” Minyard looked up at him. “Is an inconvenience at this very moment. Bee!” He shouted into the air.

In all honesty, Neil didn’t really like this Betsy. She did seem like a pleasant person, but she was a therapist and Neil wouldn’t ever associate with one. He had too many complications in his life, and a simple talk with another adult wouldn’t cure everything. The slight backlash of what he feared coming out of his mouth, spilling a little too much was a lot to bear. He kept quiet. The pills put on others to make him more ‘sane’, was off Neil's records. He  _was_ sane, people just never saw it, and he didn't need someone telling him any different. Though he should get used to her as Betsy was in fact close to Minyard and well, the landlady. It complicated things.

Betsy Dobson finally came in from her downstairs loft, and Neil wondered how thin the walls were for her to hear Minyard shout.

“Yes, Andrew?” She spoke through her tea cup.

“Phone.” He held up his hand.

“I was in the middle of a good book, and the only thing you need is a phone?” Betsy asked with a smile. Minyard didn’t say anything to answer and Betsy sighed, giving him her phone. “I am not a phone service, you know.”

“Just for this case.” Minyard mumbled and waved her off. Betsy looked at him like it wasn’t the first time he had said that, Minyard seemed to notice and rolled his eyes. “I’ll give it to you later.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “I thought you already have a phone?”

Minyard looked up at him, bored, as if the question did not fit his demands. “Don’t want to use mine. Always a chance that the number will be drawn back to me. And I don’t want anymore unwanted guests in my house.” He started typing something in the phone. “Oh, sorry, ‘Betsy’s house’.” He said and Betsy looked pleased with that, leaving back to her book and tea.

Neither said much as Minyard typed, only the clicking sounds of the keyboard resounded through the quiet space of the room. Neil filled in the silence. “So what’s this about a case?”

“Her case.” Minyard said softly. Neil looked confused. “Her suitcase, yes. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake.” Minyard pointed out.

Neil hummed. “Okay, he took her case. So?”

Minyard held out the phone to Neil who just stared at it in confusion. Minyard elaborated. “On my desk there’s a number. I want you to send a text.” He said.

“You want me,” He scoffed. “To send a text. When you can obviously do it yourself."

Minyard hummed. “Text, yes. The number on my desk. Don’t take all day, Josten.” Minyard continued to hold the phone out while Neil glared at him. Eventually Neil crossed the room and snatched the phone from Minyard's hand, and headed to the desk. Neil picked up a piece of paper taken from a luggage label and looked at the name on the paper. “Jennifer Wilson. Hang on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?”

Minyard waved his hands around for ignorance. “Yes. That’s not important. Just enter the number.” Neil did as he said.

There was a small silence before Minyard asked, “Are you doing it?”

Neil looked up at him. “Yes.”

“Have you done it?”

“Yes, you fuc-”

Minyard cut him off. “Type these words exactly: 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.'” Neil started to type but looked briefly across to Minyard as if concerned from what he had just said. “'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.'” He continued. Neil looked across to Minyard again, frowning.

“You blacked out?” He asked.

Munyard huffed what could be a laugh. “What? No. Type and send it. Quickly.”

As Neil sent the text, which took more time than it should have according to Minyard's glare, the latter stood down from the table and headed towards the kitchen.

He picked up a small pink suitcase from a chair and brought it back into the living room. Putting the suitcase onto the dining table, Minyard sat down in the armchair and Neil looked confused.

“Have you sent it?” Minyard asked, unzipping the case and flipped open the lid. There were a few items of clothing and underwear, all in varying shades of pink – a wash bag, and a paperback novel by some unknown author that Neil didn't recognize, but that was not what caught his mind. He looked at Minyard in shock. It couldn’t be…

“That’s,” Neil started. “That’s the pink lady’s case. That’s Jennifer Wilson’s case.”

Minyard studied the suitcase. “Yes, clearly.” Neil just stared at him and Minyard rolled his eyes.

“Oh, perhaps I should mention that I didn’t kill her.”

“I never said you did.”

Minyard looked intrigued. “Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Do people usually assume you’re the murderer?”

To this, Minyard smirked. “Now and then, yes.” Minyard sat down besides the case, as he just stared down at it. And here Neil thought _he_ had problems.

Neil sat down besides him, and tried to see what he saw but came up with nothing. “How did you get this?”

Minyard clicked his tongue. “By looking.”

“Where?”

“The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention to themselves, particularly a man, which is statistically more likely. So obviously he’d feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it." Minyard clicked his tongue. "Wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed.”

“A trash bin.” Neil said. Minyard nodded.

“Took me less than an hour to find the right bin though.”

“Pink. You got all that because you realised the case would be pink?”

“Well, it had to be pink, obviously.” Neil smiled at that. Minyard didn’t seem to notice as he just pointed at the case. “Now, look. Do you see what’s missing?”

Neil’s eyebrows furrowed. “From the case? How could I?”

“Her phone. Where’s her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there’s no phone in the case. We know she had one because that’s her number there. The one you just texted it.”

Neil looked even more confused. “Maybe she left it at home.”

Minyard rolled his eyes. “She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home.”

“So why did I just send that text?”

“Well, the question is: where is her phone now?”

“She could have lost it.” Neil hoped.

“Yes, or…?”

“The murderer. You think the murderer has the phone?”

“Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone.” Minyard said it like he was just commenting about the weather.

Neil’s face turned cold and his eyes widened. “Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer? What the fuck, Minyard?” As if on cue, the phone began to ring. Minyard turned to look at Neil who still had the phone in hand, staring at the screen.

“A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer,” Minyard paused and looked at the ringing phone, seeming to stop after a while. “Would panic.” He finished and stood up, flipping the suitcase closed. Minyard picked up his coat as Neil put the phone down and followed him out the door. “Now since you didn’t and can’t order pizza, let’s go out for lunch instead.”

 

 

The boys finally arrived at a small cafe near their apartment. Andrew let himself pay for Josten and his food as they both sat down and waited for their round of coffee to arrive. Once it finally did, the waitress handed them their drink and the two boys sat in comfortable silence for a while. Andrew waited until Josten finished up his plate of fries. Andrew simply bought a sandwich for himself but he gave it to Josten once he realised the boy was still hungry. He probably hadn't eaten anything as much as this in _days_.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Andrew noticed something of importance. He nodded out the window to get Josten’s attention towards it. When he didn’t show any sign of understanding his signal, Andrew sighed. “Look across the street. Taxi.” He said.

Josten twisted in his seat to look out of the window where a taxi was parked at the side of the road, its back end towards the restaurant. “Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out.” Andrew said as he put down his coffee mug. Andrew looked back towards the taxi for a quick second and in the rear seat of the taxi, the male passenger was looking through the side windows as if he was trying to find somebody in particular, eyes skeptical of his surroundings, a wary look on his face. Josten raised his eyebrows at the scene.

“Think that’s him?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the taxi.

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Don’t stare.”

“You’re staring.” Josten pointed out.

“We can’t both stare.” Andrew said.

And then they both looked at each other, as if Josten knew already what he was going to say, they got to their feet.

Outside the door, Andrew fixed the collar of his coat, keeping his eyes fixed on the taxi.

The passenger’s gaze fell on the front of the restaurant, and he looked at Andrew for a few moments, as Andrew stared back at him. The taxi then began to pull away from the kerb. Andrew cursed, and started walking quickly towards the car. He wouldn't waste a good catch if it was right in front of him. Josten chased after Andrew, who ran a few yards up the road before realizing that he was not going to catch the taxi on feet and slowed to a halt. The younger male stopped up beside him, confused. Andrew couldn't let them get away, he would not be stuck at square one again. He needed to catch the suspect, but how? How can he reach the taxi when feet don’t run as fast as cars? He had no choice but to run. He would catch them. He must.

“You said you are a runner. Well get ready to run.” Andrew snarled.

For a few seconds of silence, Josten had let him think in silence. Andrew brought his hands up to either side of his head and concentrated. He tried to think up mental map of the local area. Remembering all the streets and signs. He had to find the taxi. They had to catch up to it. They were so close.

Andrew muttered things to himself. “Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights.” Finally his eyes brightened. He worked out the route. He lifted his head and saw a man unlocking the door to a nearby building. Andrew raced towards the man and grabbed him, shoving him out of the way before charging into the building. He heard the man call out to him, to which he ignored. And the two boys raced up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral staircase leading to the roof.

Reaching the roof, Andrew ran to the edge and galloped down, climbing onto the railing before leaping across the gap to the next building. Andrew noticed the swift motion that Josten followed him, he did everything without wasting a breath while Andrew was almost tired. Almost. That asshole on the other hand seemed to be taking it all with ease. They both ran across to the other side of the roof and again lept across to the next building.

The boys ran down another metal staircase, jumped to a ledge and dropped down into an alleyway before running onwards again to catch that taxi. The path between them and the taxi were beginning to get closer, and they were heading towards a point where Josten and Andrew would exit the alleyway onto D’Arblay Street, to which the taxi was just turning another kerb.

Andrew turned the corner and raced down the last part of the alley, only to see the taxi drive past the end, heading to the left. “Fuck,” He shouted and without breaking stride, he raced out of the end of the alley and turned right. He kept on muttering to himself - and to Josten - the way to go. He thanked his perfect memory and how useful it was in situations like so.

The boys took a shorter route. They headed down more alleyways and side streets, and finally, Andrew found the cab. But before Andrew could find a way to stop it, before it would lead off again having the two boys try and catch it, Josten raced out of the side street at a speeding pace Andrew wouldn’t be capable of and hurled himself into the path of the approaching cab. 

The taxi screeched to a halt as Josten crashed hard into the bonnet and onto the ground. Scrambling to the window, Andrew pulled out his fake officer badge and flashed it at the driver as he ran to the right hand side of the cab. Andrew tugged open the rear door and stared in at the passenger, who looked back at him anxiously. Instantly Andrew straightened up in exasperation. “No.” He sighed and put away the badge. Panting heavily, Josten scrambled up from the ground and stumbled besides Andrew, a bit beat up from the hit. Andrew leaned down again to look at the passenger and narrowed his eyes. “Teeth, tan. What, maybe Californian?” Andrew looked at something on the floor in front of the passenger. “L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived.” Andrew straightened up again, grimacing at the man who was not the killer he just chased around for. Running, gross, and all for nothing.

The man snarled. “How can you possibly know that? Who are you?”

Andrew sighed. “The luggage.” He looked down at the suitcase on the floor of the taxi, and Josten saw the luggage label showing that the man had flown from LAX to LHR. “It’s probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Whatever.” Andrew muttered. “Welcome to London.” He immediately walked away, leaving Josten staring blankly for a moment at the scene, before he followed close to Andrew’s side.

“Basically just a cab that happened to slow down.” Josten said.

“Basically.” Andrew agreed, a bit out of breath.

“Not the murderer.” Josten pointed out. Bastard didn’t even seem tired. And he just threw himself in front of a car, that fucking martyr.

Though Andrew agreed with him nonetheless. “Not the murderer, no.”

Josten chuckled which made Andrew stare. He should ask if he was alright, but Josten seemed fine and Andrew knew it would only cause a couple bruisings which Josten could probably care less about. Andrew then payed attention to where a police officer had apparently gone to investigate why the cab had stopped in the middle of the road. The passenger got out and pointed down the road towards the boys. Andrew grimaced. “Got your breath back?” He asked Josten.

“Never lost it.” He smiled.

They turned and began to run.

 

 

Neil and Minyard arrived at their apartment, breathing heavily. They both barely got away from the cops. Once they caught back their breath, especially from how much they ran, Neil rolled his eyes. “Okay, that was ridiculous.” He said as they both leaned side by side against the wall, as they took shallow even breaths.

Minyard agreed. “It was, but I proved a point at least.”

Neil raised an eyebrow in question. “What point?” He asked with a smile.

“You.”

Before Neil could say ask what that meant, Minyard turned and called loudly towards the door to Betsy's ground floor apartment. Betsy then came rushing down the stairs with a startled look. Neil and Minyard copied the look as they both wondered why she was so startled in the first place. That was until she spoke up. “Andrew, there are people here.” She said.

Minyard glared past her and went up the stairs quickly. Neil smiled warily at Betsy who returned the favour before they both followed him up. They opened the living room door to find Wymack and Gordon sitting casually in the armchair of their room. Other police officers were going through Minyard's possessions, and Minyard didn’t look too happy about that.

“What are you doing?” He confronted Wymack.

“Well, I knew you’d find the case. I’m not stupid.” Wymack sighed.

“You can’t just break into my apartment.” Minyard sneered.

“And you can’t withhold evidence. Anyways, I didn’t break into your flat.” Wymack said and Gordon held grin.

Minyard glared at them both. “Well, what do you call this then?” He asked.

Gordon grinned even harder. “It’s a drug bust.”

Minyard said nothing and just stayed quiet for a while. Neil got confused and mentally questioned if they knew who they were talking to. But since Minyard didn't seem to be arguing about it, he could only wonder so many things. Minyard started tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter as there was an uncomfortable silence gathering around the room, everyone staring at each other and the rest searching the flat in the background. “I’m not your sniffer dog.” Minyard finally said. Wymack looked quietly at him, Neil could tell something was wrong but this was between Wymack and Minyard. However, from the time it took to know him, all of this seemed clearly like something Gordon would suggest to do, meaning Wymack had to take precautions of the report and allow Gordon to stop repercussions from happening if it were actually a drug bust. Police couldn't let a suggestion off the loose, no matter who it was. Gordon had the upper hand, it was the law to abid his accusations especially when he was a local detective who could get warrants for these.

Boyd came around the corner after a while, with a pitiful look on his face. He turned next to Neil with a smile. “I tried to stop them.” He said and looked back to Minyard who hardly showed much emotion, he was a closed book and Neil didn't know what to think of it. Neil wanted to comfort him but he didn't know how. Didn't know if Minyard wanted it or needed it. Neil didn’t even know why he even wanted to comfort Minyard in the first place. But he felt like he did.

Gordon made a disgusted noise after coming back from his search, holding in view a small glass jar with some white round objects in it. “Are these fucking eyeballs?”

Minyard snarled at him and told him to put it back. Gordon asked why they were in the microwave, Minyard looked away angrily. Most of what Minyard said was through gritted teeth and Neil saw that Minyard was trying to hold himself back. He hadn't seen him this angry before, nor ever truly angry. Perhaps he had his moments but this Neil could understand and was not pleased about the whole ordeal either. And it wasn't even his flat, nor his business.

Wymack got Minyard's attention with the snap of his fingers. “Help us properly and I’ll stand them down.” He said, to which Gordon laughed.

“This is childish.” Minyard rolled his eyes.

“Well, I’m dealing with a child. Minyard, this is our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?” He crossed his arms. Neil wondered if they would actually find something. Perhaps by Minyard's anger, it was hitting him hard. Either that he actually had something hidden, or he was hiding something from the past. Neil knew that look too well. This meant Minyard only had a certain amount of time before they either found something or made him angry enough to blow.

Boyd tried to reason. “Let’s work together. Please.”

“You know I hate that word.” Minyard warned him.

“We’ve found Rachel.” Wymack explained. Minyard turned back to him. “Help us and we’ll tell you.”

Minyard stayed silent for a while. Neil cleared his throat and all eyes turned on him.

“Help them and I’ll give you a truth. You don’t need to give me one in return if you do this.” He said, switching to German. Neil wanted to speak to Minyard alone, he hoped nobody else spoke the language and knew well enough that Minyard spoke it. He saw the many books in his apartment that were only worded in German and English, he muttered words under his breath, spoke once on the phone in insults in the language and knew perfectly well what Rache meant. Maybe Minyard would be even proud of this observation. Maybe not. But either way, this startled Andrew out of his thoughts and he took a while to respond.

“You would have said one anyways.” Minyard pointed out, speaking in the same language. “Why do you care if I help them or not?”

“I’m counting that as the question then.” Neil said. “It would be bad if they found anything in your apartment. I live here now too, you know. It would be lonely without someone nagging me about their issues and I’ve only stayed here a night. They also know about Rachel and I’m guessing that’s a big key in your case. It won’t do much to just have a little bit of help.”

“Our case.”

“What?”

“It’s our case, isn’t it?”

Neil smiled. “So let’s complete our case by allowing a few people to tag along.”

Minyard looked to Neil and Neil looked back. They stayed like that for a while before Minyard turned back to Wymack. “Who is she?” He asked back in English which got Wymack’s attention from their small conversation. Boyd looked pleased and Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter.” He said.

“Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name?” Minyard asked.

“Never mind that. We found the case.” Gordon seemed pleased and Neil tensed up as they seemed to have their hands on the pink case of Jennifer Wilson. “According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath.” He said.

Minyard bit back a menacing grin. “I’m not a psychopath, Gordon. I’m a high-functioning sociopath.” Then turned to Wymack once more. “You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. _I_ need to question her.”

Wymack clicked his tongue as Boyd said, “She’s dead.”  

Minyard gave a huge grin and everyone looked startled. “How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be.”

“Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago.” Boyd continued.

Minyard looked confused. “No, that’s not right. How… Why would she do that? Why?”

“Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup, sociopath, I’m seeing it now.” Gordon nodded. Minyard ignored him.

“She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt.” He said, pacing back and forth in the room.

“You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, does that mean the killer talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow.” Neil said.

Minyard stopped half step. “Yes, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?” Neil stared at him. Neil also realised that everyone in the flat had stopped what they were doing and fell silent. Minyard glanced around the room and then looked back to Neil. “Whoops. That’s not good. Sometimes my brain to mouth filter doesn’t cooperate, you would know Josten.” He smiled without a trace of kindness and Neil frowned.

Minyard stepped closer to Neil and looked him in the eyes. Only inches apart. Neil felt the back of his neck grow warm. “If you were dying, if you’d been murdered, in your very last few seconds what would you say?”

Neil didn't look away from Minyard's eyes. “I would've said nothing. Maybe laugh at how easy it would have been to have my life end right there and then.” He couldn't understand Minyard's expression as he said that, as it probably didn’t seem like the right answer.

Minyard's expression changed back, and he continued. “If you were clever, really clever. Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers, well she was clever.” Minyard walked away from Josten and paced around again. “She’s trying to tell us something.” He said.

Betsy finally interrupted his thought. “Isn’t the doorbell working? Your taxi’s here, Andrew.”

Minyard looked annoyed. “I didn’t order a taxi. Go away.” And with that, she did.

With his back to the door, Minyard stopped and shouted out, “Shut up, everybody, shut up. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Fucking Gordon, face the other way. You’re pissing me off.”

Gordon looked distraught. “What? My face?!”

Neil saw Wymack grin. “Everybody quiet and still. Gordon, turn your back.”

Gordon tried to protest. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

“Your back, now.”

“Come on, think. Quickly, Minyard.” Minyard muttered.

“What about your taxi?” Boyd asked confused.

Minyard turned and stared at Boyd like he was going to rip his head off, but the moment he opened his mouth, Minyard paused. “Oh.” Was all he said in that moment. He turned back to Wymack, Boyd and Neil. “She’s more clever than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? Jennifer didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him.” He walked around each of them, trying to process his thinking. “When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer.” Minyard said.

“But how?” Boyd asked.

“What do you mean, how?” Minyard replied. Boyd shrugged. “Rachel.” He said and everyone looked at him blankly. “Don’t you see? Rachel is not a name.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it?”

Minyard smiled and stopped pacing as he came close to Neil. “Josten, on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address.” Neil took this as a sign to look at the label on the suitcase, read out the email address which was transcribed on it. Minyard sat down at the dining table, looking at his computer he hardly ever used. “She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone. So it’s a smartphone, it’s e-mail enabled.” Minyard said and pulled up a website Neil had no idea what it was, typing the email address into the username box. “There was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address.” Then Minyard began typing letters into the password box. “And so the password is-”

“Rachel.” Neil finished for him once the realization kicked in. Minyard hummed.

Gordon snorted. “Now we can read her e-mails. So what?”

Neil shot Gordon a look. “I think you need to understand something, Gordon. When you talk out loud, you lower the IQ of the whole street. It would be best if you shut up or left the room and let the grown-ups talk.” He said with a bit of annoyance. Neil heard Boyd laugh and Minyard looked between the two as if he wasn't expecting Neil to grow a spine in front of people. Gordon gargled onto his own spit in shock, his eyebrows furrowing in anger. He was about to retaliate, however Minyard stopped his short.

“We can do much more than just read her e-mails." Minyard answered anyways. "It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her.” 

“Unless he got rid of it.” Wymack frowned.

Neil said, “We know he didn’t.”

Minyard looked at the screen impatiently. Neil looked over his shoulder where there was a clock spinning round on the website as it claimed that the phone would be located in under three minutes. Minyard pointed a finger to Wymack and stepped away from the computer as he walked over to him. “We need to get vehicles. We’re gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last forever.”

Wymack nodded. “We’ll just have a map reference, not a name.”

Boyd looked hopeful. “It’s a start!” He smiled widely.

The computer lit up again, and Neil could see a map showing the location of the phone. Neil furrowed his eyebrows at the screen as Minyard continued to talk to Wymack. “It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It’s the first proper lead that we’ve had.”

“Andrew.” Neil said.

Minyard looked at Neil. “What?”

“It’s here. It’s in the apartment.” Neil said quietly as he watched the screen beep in response from finding the phone. The address said: _221B Baker Street_.

Minyard looked confused. “How?”

“Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere.” Boyd suggested.

“And you think I wouldn't have noticed that?” Minyard said.

“We texted him and he called back.” Neil said.

Wymack called out to all the other officers and detectives, “We’re looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim.” He said. Everyone scattered to find it.

Neil looked at Minyard who stared at the wall and tapped his knuckles on the desk. “Who do we trust, even if we don’t know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?’” He asked himself. After a few moments of silence, Minyard turned his head as if he found something out, but his attention turned to a message on his phone before he could say anything. Neil looked at Minyard in question, but he didn’t seem to realise Neil was looking his way. Neil raised an eyebrow skeptically. Everyone seemed to be busy trying to search for the phone but there was something off about the look Minyard was giving. Just who had texted him?

“Minyard, are you okay?” Neil asked.

Minyard sucked in a small breath, going unnoticed by anyone but Neil. “I’m fine.” He said blankly. Neil mentally laughed, wasn't that his line?

“So, how can the phone be here?” He asked.

Neil knew something was terribly wrong as Minyard only answered with, “Dunno.” Well, also from the fact that Minyard started to leave the apartment in a hurry.

“Where are you going?” Neil frowned.

“Fresh air. Just be outside for a moment. Won’t be long. Stay here, Neil.”

He had never heard Minyard call him by that name. He should have liked it, but a feeling of worry washed over Neil’s face from Minyard's manner of speaking. “You sure you’re alright?” Neil asked again and Minyard nodded.

“I’m fine.” He repeated more seriously, and left the building with that alone. Neil just watched him go, staying like Minyard told him to - not breaking any promises today.

 

 

Andrew opened the front door and stood on the doorstep for a moment while he shrugged himself into his coat. A taxi was parked on the side of the street and a man was waiting for him in front of it. Prior to this situation, he received a text from an unknown number. But of course Andrew knew who it was. _Come with me_ , it simply said. Andrew didn’t want to make anyone follow him. He knew it was because he found out who did the murders. Who killed all those four people. He didn’t want to jeopardize anybody else because of this new information. That the killer was right here in front of his flat. Andrew just wanted answers.

“Taxi for Andrew Minyard.” The man called out.

Andrew pretended to act oblivious. “I didn’t order a taxi.” He said.

The man laughed. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need one.”

Andrew frowned with that. “You’re the taxi driver. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street.” He remembered. The tourist who he had chased after with Josten, however it wasn't the tourist they needed after all. “It was you, not your passenger.”

Andrew saw the news about the other suicides. One was in the streets, two in the city and now the one with Jennifer Wilson. They all used a taxi. That’s the link. It all made perfect sense, how they died, however, didn’t.

The elderly man smiled. “See? No one ever thinks about the taxi driver. It’s like you’re invisible. Just the back of a head. Proper advantage for a serial killer.” He grinned menacingly. Andrew looked back at his apartment, thinking about how everyone was so close to the murderer yet none of them knew except himself. It was both thrilling and also made Andrew more wary of the situation. This man could have killed anybody inside, at any time he wished. “Is this a confession?” Andrew asked.

“Oh, yeah. And I’ll tell you what else. If you call the officers now, I won’t run. I’ll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise.”

Andrew frowned. “Why?”

The man smiled. “Because you’re not going to do that.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Am I not?”

“I didn’t kill those four people, Mr Minyard. I spoke to them. And they killed themselves. And if you get the cops now, I promise you one thing.” He leaned forward, close to the point Andrew started to feel sick at the proximity. “I will never tell you what I said to them.” He whispered.

Andrew stared at him. After a moment, the driver straightened up and started to walk around the front of the taxi. Andrew didn’t move, he spoke up instead. “No one else will die though, and I believe they call that a result.” The man stopped before he entered the car and looked at Andrew with pity.

“And you won’t ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?” Andrew silently clicked his tongue. Fuck. Fucking hell. The man turned again and continued around to the driver’s door, getting inside, settling into the front seat. Andrew bit his lip and looked up at the apartment one more time, then back to the car.

“If I wanted to understand, what would I do?” Andrew asked the man who was looking at him through his open window.

The man didn't answer his question and simply settled with, “Let me take you for a ride.”

Andrew scowled. “So you can kill me too?”

“I don’t want to kill you, Mr. Minyard. I’m gonna talk to you. And then you’re gonna kill yourself.” Andrew stared at the man in the front seat. Andrew wasn’t a martyr, that was Josten’s job. But he wanted answers.

Andrew straightened up, his eyes lost in thought as he considered the situation. All the possibilities laying out in front of him, all the different endings this could take.

And so the man in the front seat smiled in satisfaction when the rear door opened, starting the engine as soon as Andrew was settled inside. Yet Andrew didn’t know what he got himself into, he just hoped he could be back in time for his little deal with Josten, the promises he had to keep. If he died, everything he did so far would be for nothing.

 

 

Neil held Minyard's phone to his ear in search for the missing phone. He thought calling it would be a good idea, maybe they could hear it somewhere in the apartment. To no avail, even after the fifth time.

As he waited for the next ring, Neil glanced outside the window to which caught his attention. He saw nobody outside, only the taxi that pulled away from the house. The one which Minyard had just entered.

Neil turned to Boyd. “He just got in a taxi.” Boyd raised an eyebrow in question to who he was talking about. “Minyard. He just drove off in a taxi.”

Boyd shrugged. “He does that.”

Neil wondered why Minyard would just leave. Didn’t he need him by his side at all costs? To be in his sight? So why did he just get up and leave? The main question on Neil’s mind though, was if he was coming back. He decided to ignore it for now, because he was sure Minyard would come back eventually. He promised after all.

“I’m calling the phone. It’s ringing out.” He told Wymack.

Wymack raised his eyebrow. “If it’s ringing, it’s not here.”

Neil lowered the phone and looked at the computer. “I’ll try the search again.”

“Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, he’s just a lunatic, and he’ll always let you down, and you’re wasting your time. All _our_ time.” Gordon muttered as he just rested his feet on the stool of the couch, lying down like he was enjoying his little game of doing absolutely fuck all. Neil almost wanted to grab him and throw him out the window, but decided otherwise for many reasons. Mainly because there were more than seven cops inside his home right now. ' _His home'_. Neil didn’t know why he said that, it wasn't his after all. It was not his home just yet.

So, to get his mind onto something, he turned to Gordon annoyed. “Why are you still here then? You can leave. Nobody is stopping you, asshole." Gordon apparently didn’t appreciate the comment.

Wymack sighed. “Okay, everybody. It’s not here, that’s what we know. You all can leave if you may.”

Neil didn’t stop there, he wasn’t giving up. He still had to find the phone. And now to find Minyard.

 

 

“How did you find me?”

The man raised a bushy eyebrow. “Oh, I recognised you, soon as I saw you chasing my taxi. Andrew Minyard, the consulting detective in the flesh. I was warned about you. But who was the other one? The one who crashed into my car? That hurt my feelings, my car didn’t appreciate it very much. The boy seemed real nice though. I wouldn’t mind getting to know him.”

“Don’t talk about him.” Andrew snarled.

“Oh…  I can’t? He special to you?”

“He’s nothing.” Andrew stared at the man. “Who warned you about me?”

“Just someone out there who’s noticed you.” The man shrugged, but gripped on the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles were white.

Andrew frowned. “Who?”

The man didn’t answer. Andrew looked closely at the insides of the car, finding a photograph of a young boy and girl attached to the dashboard of the cab, ripped from the middle as if it were missing a piece. Andrew sneered at the man. “Who would notice me?” He asked again.

The man met his eyes briefly in the rear view mirror. “You’re too modest, Mr. Minyard.”

Andrew huffed with a frown. “I’m really not.”

“Well, you’ve got yourself a fan.” The man said. Andrew looked at him skeptically. “And that’s all you’re going to know.” The man paused. “In this lifetime.” He finally said with a severe voice. Drama queen, Andrew rolled his eyes. A dramatic murderer was always so annoying to deal with. Even though Andrew didn’t know what the man was talking about, he didn’t say anymore.

 

 

Wymack turned to Neil when he gathered everyone out of the building. “He confuses me sometimes. Why did he have to leave when we were so close? The bastard.”

Neil shrugged. “You know him better than I do.”

“You have a better relation with him in the last two days you’ve been with him than the five years I have.” Wymack pointed out. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“He listens to you.”

“I just ask.” Neil frowned. He didn't understand what the Inspector meant. Wasn't that what you did when you wanted something from someone - by asking them? Neil then thought to why Wymack wanted Minyard to help him all the time. Yes, Minyard may have been good, but his attitude may vary on many things. From interest to boredom in a split second. Minyard was an asshole, Neil could admit, “So why do you put up with him?”

Wymack laughed. “Because I’m desperate, that’s why. And perhaps kind of a sucker for lost causes.” He then walked to the door, turning back to Neil once again. Neil wondered how much of a lost cause Minyard could really be. Wymack opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself short. “But in all honesty, I know Andrew Minyard is a great man. And I think one day, if we’re very lucky, he might even be a good one. For everyone and for you.”

Neil wanted to ask what he meant by that but Wymack left before he could even open his mouth.

 

 

The taxi finally came to a stop. It settled in front of two identical buildings side by side. The man turned off the engine and got out, coming to the passenger door and opening it for Andrew. Andrew wanted to cut off his arms, but decided against it since it would lower his chances of a confession on how he killed the people.

“Where are we?” Andrew asked.

“You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are.”

“Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?”

“It’s open. Cleaners are in. One thing about being a taxi driver, you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I’m surprised more of us don’t branch out.”

“And you just walk your victims in? How?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. But the man was quick and pointed a pistol to Andrew’s head. The latter just rolled his eyes.

“So dull.” Andrew sounded bored. Every killer had always threatened with a gun, almost every person he'd ever confronted about in a case. That or a shitty knife in a terrible hand stance. Honestly Andrew expected more.

“Don’t worry, it gets better. Keep your arm bands in the car.” The man said. Andrew looked at the man before stepping out and leaving his bands on the top of the car. He doubted the man cared if they were in or out of the car, as long as they were off Andrew. Andrew felt slightly more defenseless in the hands of this man, but wanted answers. The man seemed to not care about his scars, perhaps didn't even see them.

“You can’t make people take their own lives at gunpoint.” Andrew noticed as the gun was still pointed at his forehead. He didn’t flinch as the tip sunk into his skin, he only withdrew an emotionless glance the man’s way. If the killer’s intentions were for him to kill himself at gunpoint, he’d rather take the gun to the head if it meant living in a world where he thought things could finally be interesting.

“I don’t. It’s much better than that.” The man grinned and lowered the gun. Andrew was glad that this wasn’t the final cut. Actually, that would be bad to say under these circumstances. “Don’t need this with you, because you’ll just follow me.” He said and walked away confidently. Andrew stood for a moment, and sneered in exasperation as he did exactly what the man predicted, following him away into one of the twin buildings. He was a sucker for a good case at hand, it seemed.

 

 

Neil was alone in the apartment. He didn’t know what to do in Minyard's absence. He made himself some cereal, flicked on the TV and saw that nothing interesting was on. He would try and call Minyard's phone but Neil had it. Which was one of the reasons Neil assumed Minyard was coming back. Perhaps the reason Minyard gave it to him in the first place.

He would have called Betsy's number to which was the phone Minyard had on his person, however Neil didn't know it, nor was Betsy here to help him learn it.

Honestly, Neil didn’t know how he ended up somehow befriending Minyard. He expected to hate him, to be trapped in this house until they figured out what to do with him and despite everything Minyard would do - him being a detective and all. But Minyard, the asshole himself, thought Neil nothing more of just a companion, maybe a friend. Not the son of a killer. Even so, Neil didn’t know if Minyard truly did like his welcome here, Neil expected he didn’t, but apparently having someone to talk to about cases helped Minyard somewhat in his "job". Neil noticed those small moments from Minyard's usual emotionless expressions, the hidden ones beneath the facade. And Minyard seemed to appreciate that. Neil wondered if he would run away, would Minyard simply find someone else instead? A truth for a truth, he had said. If only he’d be here to actually start that deal of his.

Neil suddenly heard a pinging, a sound that beeped every few seconds and then ceased for a moment before continuing back again. He stopped everything that he was doing - which was actually nothing at all - and listened. After a quick scope of the room, he found out that the noise was coming from the computer. With everyone gone and the lost silence that over kept Neil in his thoughts, the sound traveled through the walls and over the room. Neil noticed that every time the phone moved location, it made a sound to identify that, meaning the phone that belonged to Jennifer Wilson, well, it was on the move.

Neil frantically looked at the screen, writing down the coordinates to which the car stopped. A college, it seemed. He quickly turned away, grabbing his coat with the notebook still in hand, hurrying out of the door and down the stairs.

He had to find this murderer on his own, it seemed. Perhaps then, Minyard could be impressed.

 

 

At Roland-Kerr College, the killer opened the door of a room that seemed wide enough for many students at a time. He stood aside so that Andrew could go in. He may have some manners after all, that did not change anything however. This was still the man who had killed five other people, perhaps more if not stopped. Andrew looked at him closely, trying to figure out his plans for the rest of the evening and what the killer truly thought deep inside his mind. But once inside, the man released the door and let it swing closed, walking over to some switches on the wall and turned on the lights. The two men were in a large classroom which had long fixed wooden benches and free-standing plastic chairs. Andrew raised his eyebrow at the place.

“Well, what do you think?” The man asked. A desperate answer. He wanted Andrew to appreciate the place where he killed. The home to his psychotic thoughts and actions. Andrew would be disgusted if not intrigued. Andrew shrugged instead, as if to say, “What do I think about what?”.

The man sighed. “It’s up to you. You’re the one who’s gonna die here.”

Andrew turned his head back to him, a side-eye glance that only contained a blank emotion, “No, I’m not.” He said.

The man laughed.

“That’s what they all say.”, was his only reply.

The killer gestured to one of the benches from the classroom. It was a large bench, seemed like a fancy version of a cafeteria. Andrew hated cafeterias. “Shall we talk?” The man asked, more so of a statement than it was a question. Andrew had no options, only waiting to see how this would unravel.

Without waiting for a reply, the man pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Andrew took his place on the bench in front of him. He sighed dramatically from how cliche it was. “Bit risky, wasn’t it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They’re not that stupid. And Bee will remember you.”

The man scoffed. “You call that a risk? Nah.” He then proceeded to reach into the left pocket of his cardigan. “This,” He took out a small glass bottle, and put it front of Andrew. “Is a risk.” Andrew looked at it but didn’t react in any way. “Oh, I like this bit. Because you don’t get it yet, do you? But you’re about to. I just have to do this.” He said and reached into his right pocket, taking out an identical bottle just like the one he placed in front of Andrew, sliding it next to the first one. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?” The killer lifted his chin at the blond male and leaned forward in a way that Andrew didn’t like. Andrew's prediction was right, he was a dramatic shit. “You’re going to love this.” The killer said in a whisper which could send chills down Andrew’s spine. Not in a way that Andrew was frightened, but in a way that made Andrew remember things he didn’t want to remember. He doubted he'd love any moment of it, but the pure curiosity he had, to understand how the killer did it, that was overwhelming.

He raised his eyebrow as if to act with the killer. “Love what?”

The man leaned back again. “Andrew Minyard... Look at you. Here in the flesh. As a fan said you would be if I caught your interest enough.”

“You keep mentioning my fan, but I don’t look too stoked about the idea. Nobody is a fan of my work.” Andrew said, annoyed.

“Your little buddy seems like he could be.”

“What did I tell you about mentioning him.” Andrew warned again. The elder just grinned.

“You are brilliant, you know. You are, a proper genius. Between you and me sitting here, why can’t people just think?” The man looked angered. A flicker of fury shone in his eye “Don’t it make you mad? Why can’t people just think?” He said, emphasizing the last letter. He looked into Andrew’s eyes, and Andrew could tell a clever man when he saw one. A broken person who had nothing better to lose, and who had to take pieces of himself apart in order to become who he was. The clever were never treated like normal, they were treated like weapons or more or less _objects_. Andrew would have felt pity for this man, if he wasn’t using his tactics to cause others harm.

“Oh, I see. So you’re a proper genius too.” Andrew said, more sarcasm than anything

“Don’t look it, do I?” The man gave him a smug look. No, he absolutely didn't. The man was even more shorter than Andrew, and Andrew was indeed short to say the least. He was old, crooked teeth and a hunch on his back. He spoke weirdly enough that it reminded Andrew of someone who you'd walked past in a park, and probably quickly walk away from. His accent was thick and sometimes confusing to understand. Only a few would know better. “I’m just a funny little man driving a taxi. But you’ll know better in a minute. Chances are it’ll be the last thing you ever know.” He laughed a poor sound. Andrew held his gaze for a second or two, then looked down to the table, quirking an eyebrow at the bottles.

“Okay, two bottles. Explain.”

“There’s a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live. Take the pill from the bad bottle, you die.” The man said.

“Both bottles are of course identical.” Andrew noted.

“In every way.” The man nodded.

“And you know which is which.”

“Course I know.”

“But I don’t.”

“Wouldn’t be a game if you knew. You’re the one who chooses.”

Andrew looked at the bottles with interest. “Why should I? I’ve got nothing to go on. What’s in it for me?” He said, and it was true. He could just arrest him right here and now.

“I haven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine.” He said. Andrew stared at the man with a grim smile. Interesting enough to make his head tilt in wonder. This man here could die if Andrew chose the right one, perhaps this will be fun after all. “I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t.” The man gestured to the bottles. Andrew looked down, concentrating on each one. They were indeed identical, nothing to tell them apart except for the placement.

“Didn’t expect that, did you, Mr Minyard?” The man said.

“This is what you did to the rest of them, you gave them a choice.”

“And now I’m giving you one.”

Andrew stayed silent.

“You take your time. Get yourself together.” The man stretched his hands, and licked his lips in anticipation. “I want your best game.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “It’s not a game. It’s chance.”

“I’ve played four times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, Mr Minyard. It’s chess. It’s a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this,” The man slid one of the bottle across the table towards Andrew. “Is the move.” Another lick at the top of his lip, and Andrew stared at the man from the bottle in his view. “Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one.”

There was a long silence.

The man looked down at the bottles briefly then met Andrew’s eyes. “You ready yet, Mr. Minyard? Ready to play?”

Andrew looked annoyed to that. “Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance.”

The man shrugged. Fucking hell- “You’re not playing the numbers, you’re playing me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?” He said and Andrew’s interest grew impatient.

“Still just chance.”

“Four people in a row? It’s not just chance.”

“Luck.”

“It’s genius. I know how people think.” Andrew rolled his eyes and tried to calm himself down.

“ _I_ know how people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my head.” Andrew was exasperated.

“Everyone’s so stupid – even you.”

“Shut up.” Andrew snarled.

“Or maybe God just loves me.”

Andrew straightened up and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. He eyed the two bottles, not knowing which could be which. At this point he didn't want to win to survive, he wanted the man to deserve the pill that would make him collapse on the floor and never bring him back up again. He narrowed his eyes at the killer, huffing out a breath as if he knew what was coming. “Either way," He told him. "You’re wasted as a taxi driver.” 

 

  
  
Neil was in the back of a taxi. He had the location on Minyard's phone, and he directed the driver to wherever he needed to go. “To left here, please. Left here.” He said and thanked the driver once he arrived, tipping him for the ride. Neil glanced at a building - or two - looking exactly the same. The taxi pulled away, Neil tucked Minyard's phone into his jacket and saw another taxi car, not the same as the one he had just entered, placed near the buildings. It seemed ordinary but a glint of something recognizable laid on top. Neil could tell Minyard's arm bands from anywhere, the distinguished layout of the accessories. However, what perked his conscious was not that they were in front of a taxi unattended, but the fact that Minyard would never leave without them. To this, Neil’s heart pumped faster than it should have. He scattered to take them and snuck them in the pocket along Minyard's phone. Clearly the map wasn't precise enough to indicate exactly which building was the correct one. Where the killer may be. Where Minyard may need help. Neil needed to hurry. Fast. This was just a chance after all. It took a moment to decide, and then Neil made his choice and headed towards one of the building.

 

 

In the classroom, Andrew gazed at the man attentively. “So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?” The man nodded down at the bottle.

“Time to play.” He said.

Andrew huffed. “Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out to you. Traces of where it’s happened before, so obviously you live on your own.” Andrew felt satisfaction when the man tried not to fidget under his gaze. “But there’s a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there. The photograph’s old but the frame’s new. You think of your children but you don’t get to see them,” The elder’s gaze looked away from Andrew and for the first time there was a hint of pain in his eyes. Andrew hit him hard, and he was glad. So he continued. “Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts.”

“Ah, but there’s more.” Andrew pointed at the man in question and smiled a grim smile. “Your clothes. Recently laundered but everything you’re wearing is at least… three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What’s that about?” He lifted an eyebrow.

The man took control of himself again and his expression said nothing. Andrew’s lip twitched at the look he was receiving. Then it hit him. Andrew’s eyes widen slightly. “Three years ago. Is that when they told you?” He asked.

“Told me what?” The man looked dead to Andrew. Ironic, it was indeed the case.

“That you’re a dead man walking.”

“So are you.”

“You don’t have long, though. Am I right?”

The man smiled at him. “Aneurysm.” He tapped a finger to his head. “Right in here. Any breath could be my last.”

Andrew was finally proud of himself, however despite the feeling, he frowned at the man. “And because you’re dying, you’ve just murdered four people.”

“I’ve outlived four people. That’s the most fun you can have on an aneurysm.” The man quirked an eyebrow.

“No. No, there’s something else. You didn’t just kill four people because you’re bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children.” Andrew spat.

The man sighed. “Oh.” He said and looked away from Andrew for a second before resting his eyes on him. “You are good, aren't you?”

“But how?”

“When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving a taxi.”

Andrew waved his hand around. “Or serial killing.” He said.

“You’d be surprised.” The man said.

Andrew slammed the hand on the table. “So, surprise me.”

The man leaned forward and it took a lot for Andrew to not lean away. “I have a sponsor.”

Andrew looked confused as his eyebrows twitched. “You have a what?”

“For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.” The man said and Andrew may need a drink after this. And Advil. And a new will to live.

“Who’d sponsor a serial killer?” He frowned.

“Who’d be a fan of Andrew Minyard?”

They stared at each other for a moment. One grinning, one frowning. “You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a man… and they’re so much more than that.” The side of Andrew’s nose twitched in distaste.

“What do you mean, more than a man? An organisation? What? Who is 'they'?”

“There’s a name no one says, and I’m not going to say it either. Now, enough chatter.” The man said and looked down at the bottles. Andrew’s frown only deepened. “Time to choose.”

Andrew looked down to the bottles, his eyes moving from one to the other. “What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here.” Andrew scowled. Sighing, the man took out the pistol again and pointed it to Andrew. He looked disappointed. Andrew was as well.

“You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head.” He said. Andrew smiled sarcastically his way. “Funnily enough, no one’s ever gone for that option.”

“I’ll have the gun, please.” Andrew waved his hand in dismissal.

The man paused for a second, but didn’t change his blank expression. “Are you sure?”

Andrew continued to smile. “Definitely. The gun.”

“You don’t wanna phone a friend? The little boy perhaps.” There was a menace look in Andrew’s eyes, but the smile - still the same.

“The gun.” Andrew said.

The man’s mouth tightened, and slowly he squeezed the trigger.

Yet only a small flame had burst out of the end of the muzzle. Andrew's smile was more smug than anything. “I know a real gun when I see one.” He said.

“None of the others did.” The man said.

Andrew looked bored. “Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.” He stood up, walking towards the door. The man put the gun onto the desk and calmly turned in his seat.

“Just before you go, did you figure it out?” Andrew stopped in his track, turned his head towards the male, opening the door slowly as the man said, “Which one’s the good bottle?”

“Of course. Child’s play.” Andrew replied.

“Well, which one, then?” Andrew kept his hand on the door, but showed no sign of leaving the room. “Which one would you have picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?” Andrew finally closed the door, and stayed in the classroom. He could just hear the smile on the other man. “Come on. Play the game.” The man teased.

Slowly, and Andrew knew it was a bad idea, did he walk back towards the man. When he got to the table, he reached out and swept up the bottle nearest to the killer. The man looked down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gave nothing away as he spoke. “Oh. Interesting.” Was all he said. He then proceeded to pick up the other bottle as Andrew looked down at his own in hand.

Luck, he repeated to himself.

 

 

Out in the corridors of the building, Neil Josten was running along and searching for his friend. Screaming Minyard's name with every door he opened, trying to find the man who promised he'd come back. It was late, the likeliness of that promise was growing thin by the second. Something could happen, and Neil wanted to be there to save him. He had to. He didn’t want Minyard gone when he was just getting to know him, when they had just started their little game of truths.

He had to find him.

Minyard had to be in there somewhere.

 

 

Yet in the classroom, the killer had opened his bottle and tipped the capsule out into his hand. He help it up, closed one eye, looking at it closely while Andrew examined his own. “So what do you think?” He said, looking at Andrew. “Shall we?”

Andrew stayed silent.

“Really, what do you think?” The man asked Andrew as he circled around him, inches away from touching him. Andrew at the instance, was not loving the moment. He closed his eyes briefly. “Can you beat me?” The man tilted his head at the detective. “Are you clever enough to bet your life?”

 

  
Neil had burst through a door and stared ahead of him as he finally saw who he was looking for. His eyes filled with horror. Yet, he only saw all this through the window. Inside the other classroom, adjacent to the building’s own, Minyard lifted his gaze from the bottle he was holding. “Andrew!” Neil shouted to the blond from the distance between them. The windows, the outside, the brick walls. Yet the man didn’t hear him. Minyard was far from noticing the man. 

The killer, it seemed, was next to him. His own bottle in hand and Neil sucked in a breath.

His instincts kicked in and Neil went right for his side, reaching for something he didn't know he would ever use in these kind of situations. He wasn't one for a loud noise, to attract attention from outsiders. 

However his newly found friend was on the line, and Neil had to save him no matter what.

 

 

Unaware of the figure in the next building over, the killer continued to hold up his pill as he looked at Andrew. “I bet you get bored, don’t you? I know you do. A man like you, so cleve.” Andrew unscrewed the bottle lid. “But what’s the point of being clever if you can’t prove it?”

Andrew took out the capsule and held it between his thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely. “Still the addict.” The man continued. Slowly Andrew lowered the pill again, holding it at eye level and observing it.

“But this is what you’re really addicted to, isn’t it?” The elder said as Andrew stared at it longer, blank expression in his eyes. Not meeting the other's own.

“You’d do anything. Anything at all.”

Andrew’s fingers began to tremble with excitement and anticipation, yet fear and worry.

“To stop being bored.”

Andrew began to move the pill closer to his mouth. The man matched the movement with his own pill towards his own. “Isn’t it good?” The man said, in a final breath.

A gunshot rang out, and the man fell hard to the ground. Body limp and a bloody patch stated to form in his chest. As he fell, Andrew dropped his pill in surprise at the sudden outburst. Eyes widening at the body in front of him. He turned, slid over the desk and hurried to the window. He stared right at the shattered glass that the bullet seemed to pass through. But the window of the opposite room was open with nobody in sight.

As Andrew straightened up, the man breathed heavily and coughed - the sound of a dying man. Andrew turned back, looking around the room and seeing one of the pills lying on the desk as the man convulsed on the floor with gasps and coughs. Andrew snatched up the pill he dropped and frantically kneeled down and showed it to the killer.

“Was I right?” Andrew asked. The man turned his head away. “I was, wasn’t I? Did I get it right?” Andrew demanded of him. The man didn’t reply. Andrew angrily hurled the pill across the room and stood up.

“Okay, tell me this. Your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my so called fan. I want a name.”

The man could only make out a weak, “No.”

Andrew scowled. “You’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you. Give me a name.”

The man tried a laugh but shook his head. Grimacing angrily, Andrew lifted his foot and put it onto the man’s shoulder where the bullet pierced. The man gasped in pain. “The name!” Andrew shouted. Andrew pressed harder and the man cried out in pain. “Now.” He demanded.

The man sounded agonized when he screamed out the name, “Moriyama”. Andrew put his foot away and closed his eyes, breathing heavily and trying to calm down the fast pace of his heart. Not now, he told himself. He couldn't lose control now. After calming himself down slightly, the man whimpering in pain,  Andrew stepped away, mouthing the word Moriyama to himself and for no one to hear. 

Who were they?

 

 

It was dark out. It had always been dark but it was past 2 in the morning. Outside the college seemed pleasant enough, however Andrew didn't cozy and warm sitting on the back steps of an ambulance with a blanket over his shoulders that he never really asked for, and looking at everything being developed around him. That soon changed when Wymack came over and Andrew mentally groaned. Before the older male could have said anything, Andrew gestured to the blanket. “Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me when I take it off. I was fine just watching.” 

“Yeah, it’s for shock.” Wymack told him, rolling his eyes at the stubbornness of his detective.

Andrew scoffed. “I’m not in shock. And how would a fucking blanket help those in shock?”

Wymack crossed his hands. “Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs.” It was Andrew’s turn to roll his eyes.

“So, the shooter. No sign?” Andrew asked.

“Cleared off before we got here. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but,” Wymack clicked his tongue. “Got nothing to go on by.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Andrew said and Wymack quirked his eyebrow. “The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman. A fighter of some sorts. Or someone know knows their stuff. Seen some shit. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimated to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger. You’re looking for a guy who had experience, who is a known convict, perhaps military officer or,” Andrew looked at Josten who seemed to be having a conversation with Boyd. Well more of Boyd talking a bunch, and him just listening. “.. A runaway.” Andrew said slowly and Josten met Andrew’s eyes, smiling at him slightly which could possibly be the best thing Andrew had seen all day. The blond looked back at Wymack. “Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.”

“Sorry?

“Ignore all of that. It’s just the, ah, shock talking.” Andrew gestured to the blanket, stood up and walked over the Josten. Wymack asked where he was going but Andrew waved a hand to dismiss him.

“I just need to talk about the… the rent.” Andrew called to Wymack.

“He’s living with you?” Wymack stared at Andrew in shock. “I’ve still got questions.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’m in shock. Look, I’ve got a blanket!” Andrew grinned sarcastically.

“Minyard.” Wymack warned.

“And I just caught you a serial killer... more or less.” Andrew shrugged and Wymack looked at him before letting him go, thinking there was no point in retaliating. Andrew mocked a salute at the older inspector and hurried off to Josten, taking the blanket from around his shoulders and tossing it aside to somewhere he could care less about. Boyd seemed to be in the middle of a conversation about food or something by the time Andrew came and stopped mid-way to greet him. Boyd tapped him on the back, in congratulations for finding the murderer and for comfort. Soon, he left them both to talk.

“Um, Boyd has just been explaining everything, the two pills.” Josten said quietly.

Andrew looked at Josten for a moment before smiling a bit while saying, “Good shot.”

Josten tensed. “Yeah. Yes, must have been, through that window.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Well, woudn't you know.” Josten gazed up at him, trying not to let his expression give him away. But Andrew knew. Andrew always knew. “Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case. Don’t know where you got the gun though, I suggest you ditch it.” Andrew told him.

Josten looked away nervously and said nothing.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked.

“I’m fine.” Josten said. Andrew almost laughed.

“Well, you did just kill a man.” He said.

There was silence for a while. Andrew looked at Josten closely as his eyes averted the blond's own. Andrew smiled which he presumed Josten couldn’t see, but then Josten spoke up. “It’s not the first time.”

Andrew looked at him without emotion. That was his truth. Damn this guy. “Ask me something.” He said.

“What?”

“Truth for truth.”

Josten thought for a second, a bit confused but then his eyes landed on Andrew’s. “Before you said you had proved something when we chased after that taxi cab. I asked you what did you prove, you replied with 'you'. What does that mean?”

Andrew huffed. Josten must have thought about this for a while, however Andrew did not know why this was what he wanted to know out of all things to be asked. “I proved two things about you. That one, you are a martyr. Jumped in front of that cab to stop it, proving that point. The second, that you actually enjoy my company and find my cases fun. You want to stay. So, Josten,” Andrew made their eyes meet. He had many things he wanted to say to this man, many questions which could probably be used another time. He shot a man that was probably going to either be killed or kill again. He didn’t know if it was out of self defense, anger, or what. But Josten proved he may not be spineless with people, he proved to Andrew that he could be trusted in some sort of way. That he made Andrew’s interest grow longer by the day with Josten by his side. He wanted him to stay. So he finally said, “Stay.”

Josten looked at him for a few seconds, before nodding his response.

There was comfortable silence as they both walked away from the scene. Andrew walking a little in front of Josten, guiding the way back home. They both would prefer to walk, especially with no taxi driver anymore. They had enough rides for one day.

“You were really going to take that pill, weren’t you?” Josten asked.

Andrew stopped and turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Course I wasn’t. Biding my time. Knew you would turn up.”

Josten laughed. “No you didn’t. You’d rather risk your life to prove you’re clever.”

Andrew knew that to be true. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” Josten smiled, Andrew smiled back. He doubted Josten would leave anytime soon. He may even have fun with this. After a while, Andrew cleared his throat.

“Just so you know, I fucking hate you.”

Josten nodded. “Dinner?” He asked.

“Starving.” Andrew agreed. “But you just want me for my money apparently.” Josten also agreed on that with a smile.

Then they both started to walk back home, grabbing a pizza on the way and probably smiling a little bit too much. Andrew knew this was bad, but he also knew it could be possibly be good for him. That was what Bee and Renee had been saying. But all Andrew knew at the moment, was that Josten made a damn good partner, and a fucking terrible personality to live with.

Especially since he may not leave for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *reallly long note on the series, woah, this might as well be a novel*  
> Concerning Neil and Andrew's past, it may not make any sense in the very first chapter. Though I assure you that within time, they will clear some shit up with their 'truth for truth'. 
> 
> Now let's start with the basics;  
> \- First and foremost, Kevin never went to Andrew in college after his broken wrist, so Andrew never continued to play Exy nor had someone to protect other than Aaron. So, Kevin is still in Evermore.
> 
> \- Most importantly, the foxes were never a group together in college!! I want to add them in this story, so they each have to have a different field and have come from a different place, having only met through their work and the cases. Of course, everyone will come in eventually but some will take one or more chapters to give appearance. The only ones Andrew knew as a student were Nicky and Aaron.
> 
> \- Andrew may be a little bit OOC, but only because he went through Easthaven and his deal with Aaron without Kevin nor Neil being there. HOWEVER, Easthaven happened with no Proust. Riko never had any interest in Andrew as Andrew did not have anything Riko wanted. Therefore, Proust would have never come in. That does not mean he is not important. That does not mean Andrew's time there impacted the way he acts, or the way he preserves life. He changed his drug habit, but his demons still taunt him just a little each day conserning his past. Easthaven wouldn't cure something as severe as what Andrew had been through.
> 
> \- On that hand, Drake has happened, and because of it, Aaron and Andrew's story changed gathering Neil was not there to break the fall. That led up to where the boys are now and how their careers changed. How Andrew did not find a place with Exy but rather criminology (like in the books!).
> 
> \- With that being said, Andrew graduated college and grew up realizing a new life where he tried to be happy on his own. Or at least try to be somewhat happy, he never truly found something to live for with Aaron gone to med school, Nicky gone to Germany and nobody else for him to have bonded with. So things had changed. He chose to be a detective because when he was younger, he was smarter than most, and his memory was simply incredible. He was in criminology for his major CANONLY, so it explains a lot for why Andrew holds a passion for this field, and what made me want to create this fic. I love him too much honestly, so I'm only trying to make the best for my boy. For the rest, I'll explain throughout the fic. 
> 
> \- So the scene with Neil and Browning, basically follows up when Nathan got off his parole and hunted Neil down, finding him and torturing the pour soul. The story led up to when the FBI took Neil into custody after finding him in his state with Nathan. You know, after Stuart tried to kill off his father. Nathan's inner circle is too wary of Neil being in with the FBI, so they're laying low for now.
> 
> \- Since Neil was never assigned with the Foxes, the hotel scene never happened. Neil had no reason to stay to talk to the detectives, had no interest in putting his life on the line to stay with the foxes in that very hotel room. Instead, I adapted it so Andrew found him when he tried to leave the hospital instead of having waited for him like in the book. The story goes on from there.
> 
> \- Also, just imagine the whole entire plot of TFC and the "Andreil Adventures" happened in the U.K. I also live there myself, so it’s easier for me to write. It's just a change of setting, nothing major. I don’t know the laws or police regulations in the US or if they are the same as here. But I know some streets fairly well. It also works better with this AU because everything in Sherlock happened in Britain. Therefor, easier to adapt. Some words like cab/cabbie instead of taxi/taxi driver occur, but it's easy to translate and pinpoint what it means.
> 
> Anyways, that's my really fucking long note, these won't happen often in the future. I hoped that cleared some stuff up for you??? I just didn't want people to be confused, and of course without giving up too many spoilers for where this plot will go bc boy, do I have some stuff for ya. I'll update when I can and try my best to make the chapters flow nicely while being a thorough length, as this will be a terribly (but hopefuly entertaining) long fic in itself.
> 
> So please enjoy!!


	2. Case 2: The Blind Banker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 2 Season 1 of Sherlock.
> 
> Content Warnings; Mentions of past childhood abuse, not graphical. Neil just talks a little bit about his father and Andrew about his times at Easthaven. Small scene explaining his past drug issues with Matt and you know where that leads. Case deals with um, murders? (obviously) Questioned suicide, and quite a bit violence with knives, giant arrows and blood. Also, let my children smile, ok? This is an AU afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is kind of long, which is why it took a while to update. 26k wowa. Whoops.  
> But the second chapter is here and I hope you like it!
> 
> Again; thanks Aiden and Arianne for the help.

Neil opened his eyes abruptly at the sound of an alarm. He flinched and looked around frantically for an intruder, for an answer to where he was, until he realised it was only an ambulance outside. He had to stop doing that, stop being frightened by the littlest of things. Neil had been sleeping at Andrew's for over two weeks now, and had grown accustomed to all the things around him - more or less Minyard’s routing. But things still brought him to feel wary; little noises, conversations with people and the whole... detective business. However, Neil could admit that he had grown a good relationship with Minyard’s coworkers. Boyd was a nice guy, Wymack made him think of his father but he was nothing like the man, Gordon was just an ass but was still tolerable at times. Minyard on the other hand, Neil had become comfortable in his presence. He had been the one who he could trust the most.

Though for the last few days, Minyard had been grouchy about not having anything exciting to do.

Neil sighed and decided he should go jogging, gathering he was awake and ready to start a new day. It was only 7 am after all. He could gather his thoughts better this way.

Minyard had told Neil that he still didn't understand his intention to run every morning, or every so often. Neil always commented that it was the side effects of being a rabbit.

As he stood up from the couch, he saw Minyard resting his head on his arms, sleeping. Files all around him and looking less grouchy then he normally was. Neil let him be. Minyard needed sleep after all. However deep inside his mind, Neil felt weird seeing Minyard so vulnerable. 

Ignoring the feeling, Neil ran around the block for a bit, until he felt tired enough to stop. It had probably been around an hour or so. Meaning when he came back, Minyard would be awake and probably making coffee.

With a satisfied smile, Neil was right. It wasn’t so deduction as it was the routine he had been trying to memorize on Minyard.

“Do you actually sleep?” Minyard raised an eyebrow as he saw Neil walk into the apartment, sweating from the run. He brew two cups of coffee and set one down near Neil - who took it with a nod. Minyard seemed to have already taken a shower, with damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead and fresh clothes which were all unsurprisingly black. Neil couldn’t complain as he looked like a hobo most of the time himself.

“I could ask the same about you.” He pointed out to the files on the table Minyard was prior to sleeping on. Minyard hummed and settled down on the opposite seat of the kitchen table.

“Want to play our game?” Minyard suggested blandly. Neil wondered if he had forgotten about that, however Minyard probably just believed in patience. They had not done a game since the previous case.

“Sure.” Neil took a sip of his coffee and his cheeks flushed at the sweetness of it. Fucking Minyard. The latter noticed and smirked. “Only if you stop putting sugar in my bloody coffee.”

“Not a sweet tooth?” Minyard asked, condescendingly.

“Is that your question?” Neil replied in retaliation.

“No.” Minyard rolled his eyes. He then stared at Neil and raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you have a phone? You always use mine.”

Neil stared back at him. Minyard knew how to ask and that impressed Neil. To anybody else, it could be a simple question. But Neil found that even these few little details could bring big things. These little details could lead to a story, and any story was as important. He seemed to have been quiet as Minyard waited for a response.

“I was on the run with my mother. We had a few phones and threw them away so nobody could track us down. Didn’t use one since her death.” Minyard nodded. “What did you need therapy for?”

“Drugs. And perhaps bad behavior. I was one some heavy shit, and needed to be off them as soon as I could, so I was sent to rehab and Bee was my therapist in college.” Neil hummed.

“Is that why you stayed quiet at the drug bust?”

“Is that why you stayed quiet period? Trust issues?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that.” Neil said through a sip. Minyard huffed which meant Neil’s question probably had the same answer.

“Finish up your coffee. Then we leave.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Leave? Where?”

“Shopping.” Minyard said sarcastically, adding on jazz hands while he was at it. Neil rolled his eyes and put down the empty cup, back into the sink to wash later. Once ready, they both walked across the streets to some shops, all in comfortable silence.

“I’ll pay you.” Neil said once they entered the first store, and Minyard had the audacity to silently laugh.

“No you won’t.”

“I actually have money.”

“From being a rabbit on the run?”

Neil shrugged.

“I’m paying.” Minyard said and didn’t let Neil speak until he chose a couple things for him to wear. Usually just basic plain shirts, pants and sweaters but looking better than anything else Neil had in his wardrobe. They went through every damn clothing from shoulders to ankles and purchased them at the front desk.

“How do you get money if you don’t get paid?”

“Been saving up.” Minyard said. Neil accepted the answer and the clothes Minyard handed him once they paid. ‘They’ meaning Minyard.

“Can I trust you to walk back home? I have a meeting with someone.” Minyard said, starting to walk away anyways. Neil nodded and took the rest of the way home alone. He wondered where Minyard had to go, but decided to ask about it later.

Once inside he was bored once more. He decided to look through cases that Minyard seemed to be looking at before he slept. They were kept around the house, often spread around the floor and the tables, however most of the old ones or the ones Minyard deemed uninteresting, were left in a small cupboard near the kitchen. It was brown and had three shelves which pulled out to gain access to the inside. Each three of the shelves were separated by case ranking. The top shelf was for the ones Minyard wouldn't get into at the moment, but would eventually when he found himself wanting to solve it. The middle shelf, he had said, was the boring ones he never wanted to get into but couldn't waste because Wymack would come in one day to ask him about it, and he didn't feel the need to go through the process of recuperating the files. Finally, the last shelf was hardly talked about, it was the cases which Minyard never solved. The ones he often didn't have enough information to find the killer. Neil looked through them all, and found himself not understanding a thing about it so he couldn't judge. However, he was more interested in the top file. He took out a few folders from each cupboard, separating them in three so it would be easier to put back. Neil also took a few notebooks on the top of the cupboard which had information stored inside connecting to the files, and put everything on the living room table as he sat and read. Even through a few readings, most of the files looked like desperate attempts at problems and Neil found himself agreeing with Minyard on why he stored them in those cupboards. Especially the middle one. Neil had to laugh. Missing dog, stolen television, basic things that probably didn't need a consulting detective for.

The others looked too complicated to solve. A man who stabbed someone in the front without actually being present in the scene, a girl who had suddenly seen her husband disappear before her eyes and the only trace was a half eaten sandwich cut into pieces and no saliva on the food itself to indicate the kidnapper. Yeah, Neil knew he wouldn't get through them.

The top shelf only contained mildly interesting things. Stuff that seemed achievable if they talked to the right people, and investigated the right locations. Either way, Neil felt himself fly through the files, and filling up his boredom with ease. The cases were all entertaining, and even if Neil had not chosen it for a worthy case to follow, or didn't understand half of what was being said, he felt amazed with what cases could possibly be, and the ranges they took each turn.

About and hour and a half into looking at all the files, the door opened and finally, in came Minyard. He seemed more tired than when Neil last saw him, and a small cut was scratched onto his face.

“Did someone ever tell you it’s bad to look through people’s things?” He looked to Neil on the table.

“Where did you go?”

“A friend’s.” Neil looked at Minyard skeptically. Minyard was quiet for a while as he entered the house, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack, while throwing his keys onto the kitchen table. He joined Neil on the ground, leaning back against the couch and resting his head against the back pillow. “I was out with Renee, the one you briefly met the first day. We spar sometimes. I had to make up for me missing our scheduled night, so I came twice this week instead of once. I could say it was your fault as I missed it from taking you in.”

“Sparring?” Neil asked, tilting his head back to meet the blond's gaze through eyelashes.

“That would be two questions, Josten.”

“Then don’t answer it.”

“When did you learn German?” Minyard leaned forwards this time, pushing up the hems of his black sleeves higher than his armbands. He was looking to Neil as he aligned the cases to form three straight piles, and pushed them away from his space.

“Um. I spent some time in Germany on the run.” He answered, grabbing at his coffee, taking a sip and almost forgetting it was cold and sugary, not having made another one since this morning. He frowned at the taste, and mentally cursed himself for not remembering to make another one. A bitter one. Not one of Minyard's diabetic concoctions.

“Germany, huh? I have a cousin there.”

“You do?”

“Lives with his husband.” 

“Oh.” Neil said.

“Problem?”

“With what?”

“Him being gay?”

“Why would I have a problem with that?” Neil asked curiously. Minyard seemed to like that answer. Neil then stood up to bring the piles of cases back into their respective cupboards and joined Minyard back on the couch. He rested his feet onto the table, grabbed the remote control and raised an eyebrow to Minyard. He flicked his hand in a gesture that Neil could choose whatever the fuck he wanted, so Neil chose Exy. Minyard seemed to be bothered by it, but it was technically his fault for letting Neil chose what he wanted. Minyard hated that Neil seemed to have a preference for the sport, and often found himself watching pre-recorded matches, or the live ones if he was home at the time. 

Ignoring the TV completely, Minyard took out his phone and flicked through something boring as he slouched further and further into the couch. Neil, feeling as if he couldn't take Minyard's aura of boredom any longer, sighed. “I was looking at the cases, what about the one with the Jaria Diamond?” Neil offered.

Minyard didn't look up at Neil from his phone, and only said, “Not interested.”

Neil rolled his eyes at the answer. “What are you interested in, then?”

Minyard seemed like he had a lot of answers to that by the way he looked at Neil. Probably all of them were smart ass comments. Then he closed his phone as if he had an idea, and started to get up from the couch. “Let’s go to the bank.” He told Neil, handing him the phone.

“Why the bank?”

Minyard clicked his tongue. “Just follow along, Josten.” Contemplating his life choices, Neil got up from the couch and took Andrew's phone inside his pocket. 

Then they both went out to the bank for some reasons Neil didn't know.

 

 

Andrew led Josten through a revolving glass door which opened up into Shad Sanderson Bank. Weird fucking name, he had to admit. Josten stared at the impressive building of the bank but still seemed to wonder why the fuck they both were there. The looks he gave Andrew said exactly that. “When you said we were going to the bank-” Josten started but stopped. Andrew didn’t know why he stopped, but said nothing of it.

They both got onto an escalator and Andrew observed everything around him, especially the security systems which had to have cards swiped across electronic readers to gain access through the glass barrier gates.

Once upstairs into the office lobby, instead of the downstairs communal banking area. There redidents quarters seemed more or less modern than the downstairs rustic 1800-era collumns and wallpaper. It looked more professional. There were many hallways which led to many more pustules and corner offices, however to gain access, the wide reception desk stood in front. Andrew walked over to it and tried to catch the woman's attention. “Andrew Minyard.” He only said, and the woman let him in with a gesture of her hand. Josten looked back at the woman and then to Andrew who seemed to know the way to go by heart.

They both were moved into an office bigger than the many others. The man behind the desk grinned at Andrew, and stared down at Josten. “Andrew Minyard.” He said.

“Sebastian.” Andrew replied and they both stared, the tension rising by the second.

“Howdy, buddy. How long’s it been? Eight years?” Andrew looked back at him, a little disguised dislike in his feature. Sebastian turned to look at Josten.

Before Sebastian could say anything to him, Andrew spoke up, “This is my friend, Neil Josten.”

“Friend?” Sebastian’s eyes grew wide. He offered his hand to Josten who just looked briefly at it before slowly taking it, looking a bit uncomfortable. He watched Josten curiously and Andrew didn’t like it. Then Sebastian turned towards Andrew, and there was an obvious look that meant he was surprised he had a friend, and started to grin unpleasantly.

Scratching his neck, Andrew’s eyes fell on his wristwatch. Instantly observing the male with every action he made. Josten pursed his lips as if he had taken an instant dislike to the man. Andrew seemed to agree, Sebastian wasn’t the most pleasant man and seemed to have many issues in the sense that made both boys wary. With his posture and deamer itself, little did Josten know what Sebastian used to be like back eight years ago.

“Do you need anything? Coffee, water?” Sebastian asked.

Andrew shook his head, Josten simply said no without looking at the man.

“No?” Sebastian tilted his head then looked back to his secretary and waved her off. “We’re all sorted here, thanks.” The secretary left the room, Sebastian sat down at his desk and the other two sat side by side opposite him.

“So, you’re doing well. You’ve been abroad a lot.” Andrew said, sounding bored already. Josten looked at him as if he was wondering why they were both here. Andrew looked back at him. Patience, Josten. He hoped the other boy got the message.

“Well, some.” Sebastian replied.

“Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?” Andrew asked. Josten frowned in confusion but Sebastian just grinned and pointed at Andrew.

“Right. You’re doing that thing.” Sebastian looked at Josten. “We met at Easthaven. This little orphan here had a trick he used to do.”

Andrew's lip twitched at the name. “It’s not a trick.”

“He could look at you and tell you your whole life story.” Sebastian laughed like it was all a joke. Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve seen him do it.” Josten frowned.

“It annoyed everybody. We hated him.” Sebastian said which didn’t exactly make the conversation any less happier. Andrew turned his head away, trying to hide face momentarily filling with something he forgot a lot about. He was here for a reason, not a catchup with Sebastian. He had to maintain himself, and control the anger. when he was in Easthaven, he barely passed the month with Sebastian nagging at his side with his junkie buddies, however the case he wanted to see through involved the man so Andrew had to make do. If only Andrew could tell the bank why Sebastian had been involved in Easthaven, then perhaps he wouldnt be so publically adored by hos office workers. Or perhaps they already knew. Sebastian continued nonetheless. “You’d come down to breakfast and this freak would know you’d been having sex the previous night. Say he didn’t want that near him, even if he was rooms away. Probably couldn't understand the pleasure in the act, let alone emotions.”

“I simply observed.” Andrew said.

“Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world. You’re quite right. How could you tell?” Andrew opened his mouth but Sebastian stopped him and smiled smugly. “You’re gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan.”

Josten frowned at how Sebastian was dealing with the situation, his type of character.

“No-”

“Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!”

Andrew didn’t look too happy. “I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me.” He said.

Sebastian looked confused at first by such an 'ordinary' explanation, and Josten looked to the same - mainly because Andrew didn't even talk to his secretary.

Sebastian straightened up and laughed without humor, and Andrew smiled back at him with much less. Josten suddenly broke their staring match by clearing his throat. “He’s at least more smarter than you will ever be.” He told him and Sebastian glanced his way, looking surprised the other male had the ability to talk. “If you can look at somebody and guess their life story, then you can come back to him and laugh. But no, you are just a banker. Just because you have a lot of money does not mean you can trash up someone’s life by what their personality is, the hobbies they enjoy, or whatever the fuck you think can be entertaining. Andrew has accomplished probably more than you ever have, he has solved cases in which basic people could probably never even be close to finishing let alone understanding. Yet you said you were at Easthaven, meaning you probably had a drug scandal you couldn't wait to open with your peers, am I right? Wonder how you got into that mess. Perhaps the attitute never changed, you should go revisit sometime soon. Honestly, if it weren’t for Andrew, most people would be dead in a world with crimes. Rich assholes like you would cease to exist gathering bad people would target you fuckers like crazy. Your body would probably end up dead in a ditch - where you belong. So before laughing over the fact that he can do world wonders, consider what you said and find his point of view, and realise what great things he can achieve. Better things than a simple bankers with a narcissistic personality, a drug habit thats probably still not solved, a superiority complex and a knack to laugh at people you think are below you. Because if you look closely, it's obvious you are a child trapped inside a man's body and can't comprehend intelligence when you see one. I'm surprised you even noticed he was smart in the first place, since you look like you can't understand basic first grade math if it hit you in the face. So instead of showing your insecurities of what you cannot do in life, you make fun of others who have better chance in life than you. No wonder you were in Easthaven.”

Andrew stared at Josten with the same expression as Sebastian, but with more interest than just confusion by what he said, and personal offence on Sebastian's part.

Sebastian coughed. “Well, I’m sorry then.” There was a silence and everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Josten looked proud of what he said, a smug look plastered on his face. Sebastian looked more wary of the boys than he had before, however he needed them. So if he had to deal with them, he had to make due. “Anyways. I’m glad you could make it over." There was sarcasm dripping in his voice, glancing to Josten with an annoyed stare. "We’ve had a break in.” He changed the topic, looking right at Andrew.

He led them across the trading floor, towards a glass door. Josten seemed tired out and didn’t want to follow, but moved anyways. “Sir William Shad's office, the bank’s former Chairman. The room has been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night.”

“What did they steal?” Andrew asked.

“Nothing. Just left a little message.” Sebastian said, holding his security card out to open the door, unlocking it. Inside had a plain white wall. Over the desk was a framed painted portrait of a man in a suit, presumably the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait, it seemed like someone had sprayed what looked like a graffiti tag in yellow paint. The tag looked vaguely unfamiliar, however it didn’t look like anything much. Just a line.

Sebastian led the boys towards the desk and then stepped aside to allow Andrew a clear view of the wall. Josten moved to stand on the other side of Sebastian, who looked at the man skeptically, narrowing his eyes. Sebastian noticed this of course, and tried his best to look away but failed to as Josten was persistent in staring down the taller male. It was funny to Andrew, the way Josten seemed to radiate his hatred onto Sebastian. No subtlety about it at all.

Andrew hummed when done observing the graffiti, returning back to Sebastian’s office, to which then the banker showed them the security footage of the office from the previous night.

“Sixty seconds apart.” Sebastian flicked back and forth between the still photograph taken at 11 o’clock, with the paint on the wall and on the portrait, and a minute earlier when the wall and portrait were still clean. “So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then left within a minute.” He said.

“How many ways into that office?” Andrew asked.

Sebastian looked at him. “Well, that’s where this gets really interesting.” Back in the reception area, Sebastian showed them a screen on a computer which had a layout of the floor and surrounding offices. Each indicated door had a light against it showing the security status. “Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk in cupboard, every toilet.”

"That door didn’t open last night.” Josten pointed out.

“There’s a hole in our security. Find it and we’ll pay you five figures.” Sebastian reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out a cheque. “This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, there’s a bigger one on its way.” He smirked.

“We don’t need an incentive, Sebastian.” Andrew frowned and turned to walk away, Josten was about to follow before Sebastian caught his arm. Josten flinched and Andrew turned quickly, watching to see what the man would do.

“I’ll leave it to you, Neil. He must only be joking.” Sebastian laughed and Josten took the cheque Sebastian handed him and the younger boy furrowed his eyebrows. Andrew could see the look Josten was giving Sebastian and almost intervened before Sebastian let his arm go, so that Josten could walk out the room with Andrew. Reaching back into Sir William’s office. Andrew took a photo of the graffiti, for evidence and for information later on. Once he had taken several pictures he turned around, the symbols still fresh on his mind. He looked to his right where the windows showed an impressive view of the nearby tower. Frowning and looking away in thought for a moment, Andrew walked over to the windows and pulled up the blinds which were covering what seemed to be a door onto a small balcony. Opening the door he went out onto the balcony and gazed at the spectacular view over London and looked down at the very long drop to the ground - perhaps hundreds of feet below. Andrew bit his lip. It was high, and didn’t seem like anybody could come in by that way. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, backing away from the balcony ledge.

Shortly afterwards, Andrew caught his breath again, staring in concentration at the glass doorway to Sir William’s office.

He had an idea.

Andrew backed towards an office on the other side of the floor. He mentally confirmed that the spot in this office was the only place and room on the floor where the damaged portrait could have been seen. Josten raised his eyebrows at Andrew’s tactic. Looking around the room for some identification, Andrew eventually went to the door where two signs were attached to the outside, one showing that this was the office of the Hong Kong Desk Head, and the sign above it giving the name of that person – Edward Van Coon. He slid the top sign out of its holder and headed off.

Edward Van Coon, he muttered to himself.

Not long afterwards, Andrew led Josten back towards the escalators. They both seemed glad enough to let Sebastian be, and got out of the building while they still could.

“I don’t like the guy.” Josten said once they were a good distance away.

“Nobody does." Andrew agreed. "However, that does not mean you had to stand up for me, I could have handled it.”

“I didn’t do it for you. He just pissed me off.” Josten shrugged, then remembered what Andrew had mentioned earlier. “So, two trips around the world this month. You didn’t ask his secretary.” He pointed out. “You said that just to irritate him."

Andrew smiled but didn’t respond.

“How did you know?” Josten asked when it seemed like Andrew wouldn’t tell him willingly.

“Did you see his watch?”

“His watch?”

“The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the dateline twice but he didn’t alter it.”

“Within a month? How’d you get that part?”

“New Breitling. The brand name for the watch. Only came out this February.”

“Okay.” Josten said, making a face of amazement. “So do you think we have to stay a bit longer for clues?”

“Got everything I need to know already.” Andrew rolled his eyes. Josten looked at him, eyebrow raised. “That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and...” Andrew deliberately trailed off, waiting for Josten to fill in.

“They’ll lead us to the person who sent it.” He said. Andrew grinned.

“Obviously.”

“Well, there’s three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?”

”Pillars and the screens. Means there are very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That tells us a lot.”

Josten nodded. “Traders come to work at all hours, I saw it on the secretary’s desk. The schedule. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night, it said. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight.” Andrew looked impressed and gave Josten the name card.

“Not many Van Coons in the phone book.” He said and they headed off to Andrew’s car.  
  
Andrew and Josten drove to a block of apartments, and Andrew pressed the door buzzer marked ‘Van Coon’. Releasing it, he looked into the security camera above the buzzers, waited a couple seconds, then pressed the buzzer again. No response.

“So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?” Josten asked.

Andrew looked at the number of buzzers on the wall, all from the people living in the building. He stepped back to look up, calculating the layout of the apartment inside. Andrew came back to the wall and looked at Josten triumphantly. It was a good range between all floors and their balconies. Just enough to climb up from one neighbour to another.

There was a card slot number for the apartment just above Van Coon’s name, which looked more clean than the other cards, handwritten and new. “Just moved in.” He told Josten. The latter looked confused. “The floor above. New label.”

“Could have just replaced it.” Josten shrugged. Andrew pressed the buzzer to the card slot, then looked at Josten.

“No one ever does that.” He huffed. Soon after the buzz, a woman’s voice came over the intercom.

“Hello?” She said. 

“Hi. I live in the flat just below you. I don’t think we’ve met.” Andrew said in an uplifting voice, which made Josten side-eye him in bewilderment.

“No, well, I’ve just moved in.” The woman said on the other line. Andrew turned to throw a brief smug look Josten’s way, then turned back to the intercom.

“Actually, I’ve just locked my keys in my flat.” Andrew told her.

“Do you want me to buzz you in?” She asked.

“Yeah. And can I use your balcony?” He tilted his head.

“What?”  
  
Not long afterwards, Andrew had flattered his way into the lady’s apartment and was standing on her balcony. He frowned when she left him alone, he hated acting and hated people, and felt mildly uncomfortable. Andrew looked over the side to the ground several floors below. His heart beat was faster than usual, but he sucked in a breath and started to climb over the side of the lady’s balcony and dropped down onto the one outside Van Coon’s apartment. Taking another look over the edge, Andrew turned and reached for the handle of the door and found that it was unlocked. Andrew went inside and walked across the very elegantly decorated living room. He declared the place too rich for his taste. White leather furniture, shiny black tables and minimal clutter.

Andrew looked at everything as he went through the room, and glanced at a pile of books on a table. He walked through the kitchen, looking at the work surface before opening the fridge to reveal that it was full of nothing other than bottles of champagne. He frowned at the fail to have a free lunch, when the front door to the flat buzzed. Josten probably.

“Andrew?” He asked over the intercom.

Andrew ignored and moved into the hall. Opening the door to the small bathroom and glanced inside at the few items on the opposite shelf. He shut the door and walked to a larger room which was closed. Trying to open it, he found that it was locked.

“Any time you feel like letting me in?” Josten said with sarcasm at the end of his tongue. Andrew pretended to not hear him as he turned to body check the door open. Thank god for the weight lifting he did over the years. Andrew then walked inside and found a man in a suit and overcoat lying on his back on the bed, dead as could be. A pistol was on the floor, and the man had a small bullet hole in his right temple. Great, Andrew muttered, just fucking great.

 

 

The police had been called and a photographer was taking pictures of Van Coon’s body lying on the bed. A forensics officer was dusting for fingerprints on the nearby mirror, and distant voices suggested that other officers were elsewhere in the apartment looking for clues and whatnot. Neil was let in sometime after them, no thanks to Minyard. And in the meantime, the man himself had taken off his coat and was currently in the bedroom putting on a pair of latex gloves. Neil went up to stand beside him, ignoring how Minyard made him wait out there alone.

“Do you think he’d lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among.”

“We don’t know that it was suicide.” Minyard pointed out and handed him some gloves. Neil put them on.

“The door was locked from the inside, you had to climb down the balcony. How could someone have killed him?” Minyard squatted down by a suitcase on the floor near the bed, opening the lid and looking at the contents.

“Been away three days, judging by the laundry.” He said. Neil saw that there was a deep indentation in the clothing inside the case that Minyard seemed to be inspecting. He straightened up and looked at Neil. “Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it.” He said.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Neil looked away.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, I’m not desperate to root around some guy’s dirty underwear.” Neil rolled his eyes. Humming, Minyard moved to the end of the bed.

“Those symbols at the bank, the graffiti. Why were they put there?” Minyard asked Neil with a raised eyebrow, shrugging in question.

“What, some sort of code?”

“Obviously.” He said while looking closely at Van Coon’s legs, carefully opening the man’s jacket to look at his inside pockets. “Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?”

“Well, maybe he wasn’t answering.” Neil said.

“Oh good. You follow.” Minyard threw Neil a look before moving on to Van Coon’s hands. “What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?” Neil looked confused. He didn’t know, Minyard just seemed to be testing him. He thought at first they were genuine questions Minyard didn't know the answer to, but the snarky comments and the way he asked them said that Minyard knew exaclty - or half - of what was happening, seeing if Neil was understanding as much as he was. Fine, if he had to play Minyard's way he would. “What about this morning, those letters you were looking at?”

“Bills?” Neil said, questionably. Minyard gently pried open Van Coon’s mouth and pulled out a small black origami flower from inside. Neil looked up astonished and slightly disgusted, then saw the wounds on the man’s head. Oh. Now he saw what Minyard was trying to imply.

“He was being threatened.” Neil pointed out as Minyard put the flower in a small plastic bag and grinned at Neil's statement.

“Bag this up, will you, and see if you can get prints off this glass.” A woman’s voice was heard near Neil’s side, close enough for them to hear but not directed at them both. Neil looked over. She was fairly tall, dark skinned and had short cropped hair. Minyard turned and walked towards her.

“Ah, Minyard. Who’s your friend? I’m sure we haven’t met.” The woman smiled towards Neil. He tried to smile back. Key word was tried. She offered her hand to shake, Neil let her.

“Neil Josten.” He said as she grinned.

“Neil, this is Danielle Wilds. Another Detective Inspector. She is also Boyd’s fiance and stuck up towards her job. Wilds, this is my coworker who’s living with me for a while.” Minyard introduced.

“I met Minyard through Boyd.” She smiled and then turned to look skeptically at Minyard. “Now, I’d prefer if you didn’t tamper with any of the evidence.” The addressed man just rolled his eyes, possibly saying something like ‘stuck up’ under his breath. He gave the evidence bag to Wilds who looked pleased.

“I’ve phoned Wymack. Is he on his way?” Minyard asked.

“He’s busy. I’m in charge.” Wilds grinned. Minyard looked at her with a dismissive gaze, Neil thought she was probably a high ranked detective and was often put up with cases Minyard was involved with judging by Minyard's unpleased look.

“Again? Doesn’t Wymack know when to change who gets to be Chief for the day?” Minyard sounded bored, and because of this, Neil huffed at Minyard's attempt at a tantrum. He was quite the drama queen when needed to be.

Wilds started to move around, ignoring the shorter male who was pointing dramatically at the table. Sighing when she showed no remorse for him, the boys started to follow her into the living room where she handed the bag to one of the forensics team.

“We’re obviously looking at a suicide.” She said.

Minyard rolled his eyes once more and took off his latex gloves. “How wrong could someone possibly be? I’m guessing you found a solution that you like, but you’re choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn’t comply with it. So you just say it’s just a suicide. Always say it’s a suicide. Look deeper into it, Wilds.” He said and this time, it was Wilds’ turn to scoff.

“How?”

“The wound was on the right side of his head.”

“And?”

“Van Coon was left-handed.” Neil concluded for Minyard. Minyard pointed to the gun in Van Coon’s right hand, seeming to clear off his and Neil’s deduction.

“Requires quite a bit of contortion if it’s in the bad hand.” Minyard added, annoyed by Wilds presence alone.

Wilds raised her eyebrows. “Left-handed?” She asked.

“Oh, I’m amazed you didn’t notice.” Minyard said sarcastically. “Honestly, all you have to do is look around this apartment.” He looked over to the table besides the sofa, pointing the objects out. “Coffee table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets, he habitually used the ones on the left.” He said, then looked at Neil. Neil understood the message.

“Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left.” Neil continued for him.

Minyard smiled once more. “Do you want us to go on?”

“No, I think you’ve covered it.” Wilds laughed. “I can see why you chose him as your partner. And why Boyd said you two weirdly make a good pair, we are all glad you found someone, Andrew.” She said, making Minyard frown.

“Because of that comment, I’m going to continue on.” He said and Wilds sighed. “There’s a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It’s highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of his head. Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the facts.” He waved his hand around like it was obvious. Neil thought the same once everything seemed to make sense for both him and Wilds.

“But the gun, why?” Wilds finally asked after she rolled her eyes from Minyard’s observations.

“He was waiting for the killer. He’d been threatened.” Neil said. Minyard hummed and walked away.

“What?” Wilds looked confused.

“Today at the bank. Sort of a warning.” Neil tried to explain his best.

“He fired a shot when his attacker came in.” Minyard said.

“And the bullet?” Wilds crossed her arms.

“Went through the open window.”

Wilds laughed. “And the chances of that happening are...?”

“Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn’t fired from his gun. I guarantee it.” Minyard challenged.

“But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?” Wilds frowned.

“Good. You’re finally asking the right questions.” Minyard said condescendingly and turned to leave. Neil looked round to Wilds and then pointed apologetically towards the departing drama queen. He actually quite liked Wilds, she gave off a good vibe, though she seemed rather strict towards her job. Minyard was right about that. And to this, he left with him.

 

 

Sebastian was having lunch with some clients or work colleagues before the boys interrupted their dinner. He was in the middle of the conversation, laughing at what someone said when Minyard slammed his hands on the table with Neil at his side. “It was a threat. That’s what the graffiti meant.”

“I’m kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?” Sebastian said like Minyard was interrupting something rather important. Neil rolled his eyes. Sure, important his ass. 

“I don’t think this can wait, _Sebastian_. One of your traders, someone who worked in your office, was killed.” Minyard said it like it should concern Sebastian a lot more than passing it off in front of his friends. Minyard perhaps even said it with a little more glee than necessary.

Sebastian stared off at him. “What?”

“Van Coon. The police are at his apartment.” Minyard said.

Sebastian looked up at Minyard, shocked. “Killed?”

“Sorry to interfere with everyone’s digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o’clock in Scotland Yard be good for you?” The blond said sarcastically. Sebastian put down his glass and nervously ran his fingers inside the shirt of his collar. Neil saw Minyard's smug look from getting the man’s attention.  
  
Sebastian and the boys had relocated to the toilets of the restaurant in the vicinity. Trying to distract himself, Sebastian started washing his hands without even needing to. Neil kept on playing with the air dryer because he liked the feeling it made on his hands. It also distracted their conversation from others outside the room to which would rather not hear what they were going to say. 

Sebastian cleared his throat as he shook his hands from the dampness and drops of water cascading down to his wrist. “Harrow, Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so-”

“So you gave him the Hong Kong accounts.” Neil said flatly. Sebastian took a towel on the side and dried the rest of the water away, glancing Neil’s way as he couldn’t use the dryer.

“Lost five million in a single morning. Made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, he had.”

“Who’d wanna kill him?”

Sebastian just shrugged. “We all make enemies.”

Neil scoffed. “You don’t all end up with a bullet through your temple.”

Sebastian’s phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket. “Not usually.” He replied before looking down at his phone. “Excuse me.” Neil rolled his eyes, Minyard just seemed amused by the small banter between them both.

There was a small gap of silence, then Sebastian looked back up at the two. “It’s my Chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently they’re telling him it was a suicide.”

“Well, they’ve got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered.” Minyard jeered.

“Well, I’m afraid they don’t see it like that.” Sebastian narrowed his eyes and smiled.

Minyard looked at him sternly. “Sebast-”

“And neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Don’t get side-tracked.” He said and started to walk out of the bathroom. Neil and Minyard looked at one another, exasperatingly.

“And here I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards.” Neil said sarcastically. Minyard huffed.

 

 

Andrew and Josten were home when they both ordered pizza. It was a regular occurrence, sometimes they just didn’t want to make food, and the closest food place was a pizza joint other than the cafe next door which didn't entirely serve full coursed meals. It wasn’t their fault Andrew liked eating pizza and watching TV at the same time, while Josten just liked watching TV period.

Andrew shoved an ice cream tub next to the box of pizzas and dug in, settling into comfort and figuring out the case at hand with few files around the couch. 

“Let’s play the game.” Josten said when he finished his slice, but frowned when he saw that Andrew left the crusts untouched. “Okay, that’s just cruel.” He said. Andrew ignored him.

“You eat pineapple pizza, you can’t tell me I’m the cruel one.”

Josten rolled his eyes. “Not important. Your turn or mine?”

“Mine. How did the feds find you?”

Josten looked away. “My father found me when my mother died. He didn’t believe me when I told him what happened to her. That she was actually dead. So he made them get answers out of me, which is why I looked the way I was. Or am. It’s healing though.” Josten looked somewhat pained. “Before he could end up killing me, my uncle Stuart arrived and tried to kill my father instead. It was a success, however the rest of his circle escaped. The feds found one of the henchmen's, Romero's, sister. Her name is Lola. Terrible woman, she had a mind of her own that involved more torture than it did talking. I don't know where they took her or if she's still alive, but the others are out there. When it was all over, or when I thought it was over, Stuart said he could protect me. I denied his request and he said the fed would take care of me until I decided what to do with my life from there on out, how to get away from my father on my own but if I needed help, he's a call away. When the feds came round, I had let them take me as I didn’t have much willpower myself, tired, pained and dying. I was unconscious before they brought me to the hospital, and I woke up there. Tried to sneak out - that didn’t go as planned - then you showed up.” Andrew stared at Josten with no emotion, but nodded either way. Josten missed out a lot of information as Andrew didn’t know who Romero or Lola were exaclty, but Andrew could tell they were important and part of this inner circle the Butcher seemed to have. That one of them was in custody, the other running around in search. Josten, after finishing his truth, asked one from Andrew. “Are you really an orphan? Sebastian called you that, didn’t he?”

“I was given up by my mother.” Josten looked at him before realizing that’s the only answer he was willing to give.

“Why?” He then asked.

“Ask me again when you get a better question.” Andrew looked bored. The game seemed to end there for now, as they both finished the box of pizza before going to do their own things.

Near midnight, Andrew laid a blanket over Josten as he fell asleep watching a Spanish telenovela or whatever the fuck was playing on TV, and put away the pizza box that contained nothing else inside. Josten seemed to have eaten his crusts and Andrew rolled his eyes, going to sleep shortly after his junkie who liked crusts and pineapple pizza, and seemed more of a puzzle than Andrew precviously thought.

 

 

When morning came around, Andrew started printing out the photographs of the graffiti near Sir William’s portrait and had stuck them around the living room wall. He usually put everything he needed for a case up there, the typical red stringed map that had suspects and locations as well as many clues. He was sitting on one of the dining chairs as he looked at the wall and observed. Andrew had been staring at the photos with the various symbols in different languages hung next to them and clicked his pen rapidly in thought.

Josten walked over to him when he woke up, rubbing his eyes and yawned. He tilted his head to see what Andrew had been staring at and raised his eyebrow. “The symbols.” He simply stated. Rather a statement on what Andrew was doing, not holding much question but Andrew could tell the confusion from a mile away. He hummed in response and then jerked his head to his right.

“Have a look.”

Josten looked tired. “Look at what? The display of arranged symbols on our living room wall. This looks like a cult, Minyard.” Andrew, rolling his eyes, turned his computer to Josten. The latter looked at the web page which contained the article on the ‘Online News’ section. The main headline read, “Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police.” Next to it was a photograph of the bald man, and the article read:

_An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl’s Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in._

Josten looked at Andrew. “The intruder who can walk through walls.” He repeated with a huff.

“Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his apartment. Doors locked, windows bolted from the inside, exactly the same as Van Coon.” Andrew turned the computer back to him.

“You think-”

“He’s killed another one.” Andrew confirmed.

 

 

Wilds sat at her desk and folded her arms at the two boys in front of her. Andrew stood at the other side of her desk and typed on the computer. “Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat.” Andrew spoke up, turning the laptop around to show Wilds the web page which he had shown Josten earlier. “Doors locked from the inside.” He said.

“Both men killed by someone who can walk through solid walls.” Josten said. Wilds smiled as she was unable to believe what he had just said. There was a type of fondness in her eyes and Andrew glared at her. “Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City suicide?”

Andrew looked up, exasperated, and sighed as politely as he could. “You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?”

“Mhm.” Wilds said in lieu of a yes.

“And the shot that killed him, was it fired from his own gun?”

“Nope” She said dropping the 'p'.

“No? So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as gospel.” Andrew tapped his fingers on the desk. Wilds looked at him, interested in what he had to say in argument. “I’ve just handed you a murder enquiry. Five minutes in his apartment is all I need.” He said and left without Wilds saying anything else.

 

 

Andrew ducked under the police tape at the bottom of the stairs and went inside the door of the apartment. He went upstairs, followed by Wilds and Josten. The two boys, and head inspector for the case, looked around at everything they could. There was an open empty suitcase on the floor, nearby on the carpet was a black origami flower, similar to the one that Andrew pulled from Van Coon’s mouth. There were books everywhere on the desk, some even scattered all on the floor along with several open newspapers. Andrew walked over to the kitchen area and looked through the window at the nearby rooftop's lower building, he smirked at what he saw.

“Four floors up. That’s why they think they’re safe. Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut. They think they’re impregnable.” Andrew said as he walked into the middle of the room meeting Josten and Wilds. “They don’t reckon for one second that there’s another way in.”

Wilds crossed her arm. “I don’t understand.”

As Andrew ignored Wilds, Josten spoke up for him. “We’re dealing with a killer who can climb.” He clarified. And as he said that, Andrew hopped up on a stepping stool to get closer to the skylight of the hallway ceiling. A large window, big enough for a body to fit. Nobody seemed to have paid attention to it, but Andrew found something keen about the way it was placed and how easily one could enter through the window.

“What the fuck are you doing, Minyard?”

“He clings to the walls like an insect.” Andrew said, unhooking the latch and pushed the window upward. “That’s how he got in.”

Wilds scoffed. “What?”

“Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight.”

“You’re not serious. You mean like Spiderman?” Wilds smiled but the look was more for confusion than it was for a joke.

“He scaled six floors of an apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon.” Andrew pointed out with a raised eyebrow in her direction.

Wilds laughed in disbelief. “Hold on a second...”

“Of course that’s how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace.” Andrew stepped down onto the landing and looked around the room. “We have to find out what connects these two men.”

His eyes finally fall onto the pile of books scattered on the staircase. Andrew then picked up one particular book which had fallen open at its front page which showed that it had been borrowed from West Kensington Library. Slamming the book shut, he took it with him as he headed off down the stairs with Josten at his side like usual. He told him they were leaving again and Josten sighed.

They arrived at the West Kensington Library after a small short ride in Andrew’s car. Andrew found his way to the aisle where Brian Lukis’ book came from. Josten was looking around at all the books and picked up a couple when they stopped, examining the front and back, looking like he hadn’t seen one in ages. Knowing him, he probably hadn’t even read a book once in his life.

“Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died.” Andrew said, which startled Josten. He quickly put the book away and went over to him, where Andrew was checking the reference number stuck to the bottom of the book’s spine. He started pulling out books and examining them once he found the right section from the reference number. They both searched for the book when Josten’s eyes went wide.

“Andrew.” He said and pulled out a book at random, but wasn’t interested in the book itself. No. There was a faint yellow on the back of the shelf where Josten had just picked up the book. Andrew turned to the shelf, staring. Pulling out another huge handful of books with his other hand, Andrew saw the yellow spray paint, painted across the wood, resembling the two symbols that were sprayed across Sir William Shad’s office. It was another graffiti symbol.  
  
And so, Andrew added more photographs on the wall of his living room when they came back home. He took them back at the library and he never felt more relieved to have found another code. Yet they seemed more different than the ones in Shad’s office. It held the same paint, same style just completely different symbols. The two boys looked at the pictures narrowly. “So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon. Van Coon panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in.” Andrew confirmed.

Josten nodded slightly. “And hours later, he dies.”

“The killer finds Lukis at the library. He writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows it’ll be seen."

"Lukis goes home and late that night, he dies too.” Josten spoke up. They both go silent without glancing away from the photographs “Why did they die, Andrew?” Andrew ran his fingers over the photographs as if it would just randomly tell him something. Though he didn’t need it. He thoughtfully tapped his finger against the photo as his expression sharpened. He had, yet, another idea.

 

 

Neil and Minyard were walking through the centre of the square, heading towards god knows where. Apparently Minyard knew what he was doing, Neil had given up on trying to find out what the blond thinks up, because he’d ignore him if he asked and Neil would be more confused if he knew. It would be best to just see what happens and figure things out from there on. Preferably by himself. Neil wanted to get good at this stuff.

“The world’s run on codes and ciphers, Josten. Cryptography inhabits our every waking moment.” Minyard told Neil. Neil knew all about codes and cyphers, he usually used some with his mother when they ran. If they got into trouble, they both knew small communication that they could only decipher themselves. A danger, a threat, anything really.

“Yes, okay, but-”

“But it’s all computer-generated. Electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods. This is different. It’s an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods won’t unravel it.” Minyard seemed lost in thought and Neil had to roll his eyes.

“Where are we headed?”

“I need to ask some advice.” Minyard waved his hand around.

“You need advice?” Neil asked, disbelieved.

“On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert.” Andrew stated and led Josten towards the entrance to the National Gallery. So that was where he was taking him. Neil sighed once more.  
  
Just right around the corner of the building, Neil and Minyard found their way into an alleyway. It was already dark out and Neil remembered how sketchy this all seemed. He remembered running into alleyways, running anywhere at that matter. This one seemed no different. Graffitti all along the wall, hardly anybody around, a forest in the background and probably a raccoon inside the garbage.

Neil didn’t know why Minyard was needed here until they both ran into a younger male who was spraying the image of a policeman holding a rifle in his hands on the metal wall of the Gallery. The image though, had a pig’s snout in place of a human nose. The man laughed at the drawing, and held a spray can in both hands - one finishing up the nose, the other writing the words RAZ beside his art. Or if it was called art. Neil wouldn't know. He never understood graffiti, it just seemed too desperate for him. Neil didn’t like leaving a trace wherever he went, and so he wouldn’t ever consider the hobby. And honestly, he found those who did it for sheer pleasure quite confusing. Why would they want tag something in the first place? It doesn’t really do anything.

Raz, in which Neil thought was his name, continued spraying, even if noticing Neil and Minyard approaching his way.

“Part of a new exhibition.” Raz told them.

“What do you call it? Rubbish?” Minyard said without interest.

Raz snorted. “I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy.”

“Catchy.” Neil said with even less.

“I’ve got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round that corner.” Raz then looked at Minyard and then to the back-end of the wall. “Can we do this while I’m working?” He asked, continuing to work either way. Minyard held out his phone towards Raz, who turned around and tossed one of the spray cans at Neil. Neil instinctively caught it, looking at Minyard and Raz in confusion and then to the spray paint in hands. They both ignored him.

Raz took Minyard’s phone and scrolled through the photographs of the yellow ciphers from Sir Shad’s office and the library.

“Know the author?” Minyard asked displeased. Was this the guy he needed advice from? Neil frowned, why would Minyard need to have faith in Raz?

“Recognize the paint. It’s like Michigan, hardcore propellant. I’d say zinc.” Raz nodded his head in approval. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“What about the symbols, do you recognize them?”

Raz squinted at the picture. “Not even sure it’s a proper language.”

“Two men have been murdered, Raz.” Minyard said as if it were irrelevant to the case. “Deciphering this is the key to finding out who killed them.”

“What, and this is all you’ve got to go on? It’s hardly much, now, is it?” Minyard’s lip twitched. Neil scoffed quietly as it seemed like interrogation was not Minyard’s forte.

“Are you gonna help us or not?”

“I’ll ask around.” Raz shrugged.

“Somebody must know something about it.” Minyard said.

Before Raz could open his mouth, a shout was heard in the distance and the three of them look round to see two community support officers hurrying towards them. Minyard instantly grabbed his phone from Raz and ran off in the opposite direction with Neil right in behind, dropping the can in the process having no reason to carry it. Raz watched them run, and swore.

Neil didn’t know if he ran away as well, just knew he didn't want to be caught again and followed Andrew to wherever they needed to go next.

 

 

 

So turned out Minyard was needed elsewhere and Neil was stuck with work he didn’t even sign up for. He wasn’t even considered a detective, yet he was doing Minyard’s work anyways. He was in the subbing Inspector's office and went through some files with Wilds by his side, and a box filled with Brian Lukis’ possessions. Neil stood at the other side of the table while Wilds was directly in front of him.

“So, Andrew…” Wilds started. Neil looked up at her.

“What about him?”

“You two seem to get along quite nicely. That’s a first considering he is an antisocial git and has no friends except maybe Boyd at the most. And that’s saying something since he only talks to him when there’s a case involved, and about nothing else except the case itself.” Wilds smirked.

“Guess he’s not the friendly type.” Neil shrugged as he looked at what seemed to be a DVD with the words ‘Friends show’ written on it. Wilds seemed to have seen what he was staring at and rolled her eyes, throwing it away in the trash with a disgusted look.

“What if that was important?”

"Trust me, it isn’t.” Neil looked confused and Wilds almost looked apathetic. “Nobody watches friends on disk anymore nor do they have it on a blank one at that.” She pointed out and Neil still didn't get it. What would it be then? He thought it would give him some clues on friends Brian Lukis would be associating with. “Now stop distracting me. How did you meet Andrew?” She asked.

“Hospital.” He said, not explaining in any detail.

“Renee?” Dan asked.

“Yeah, I think.” He would not say he never actually met her, because that would lead to suspicions. Technically, he saw her for two seconds before she left, then never again. “How did you meet Boyd?” He changed the subject elsewhere.

“On the job. I was assigned Captain Inspector, he was forensics. At first I was annoyed by him, he kept on trying to subtly flirt. Eventually I gave him my number once I found him persistant enough to earn it, perhaps when I grew fond of it myself - and when I say eventually I meant 15 cases later. He’s determined, that’s why I agreed.” She smiled.

“That’s nice.” Neil said, as reassuring as he could.

“Now look at us, we are getting married soon. You can come if you want, Matt wanted to invite you anyways. He had been asking me about it a couple days ago. I was hesitant, gatherong I didn't know you at all, nor did I like how fond he was over you, someone he's only known a couple weeks. However, now that I’ve met you, you’re pretty decent and I can agree with him, see his side of the story. That's why you're invited. Especially since Andrew seems to keep his interest on you, you can't be that bad.”

“I’m invited?”

“Well of course.” Wilds laughed.

“Well… I, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, just get us great gifts.”

“What about Minyard, is he?” Neil asked. Wilds shrugged him off.

“He’s the best man.” She said to which Neil almost laughed. When he realised Wilds was serious, he stayed there in silence. Best man. So when Wilds said he had a relatively good relationship with Boyd, she meant it. Neil never knew they were as close as they were. He once asked Boyd about it. He just said they went through some rough patches and ended up understanding one another eventually, best to ask Andrew himself he had said. He would elaborate more on the gruesome details.

Finally Wilds sighed in relief. “Well, found what you were looking for.” She then handed Neil a diary. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The journalist’s diary?” Neil took it and flicked through it, opening it at a page which had been bookmarked with a boarding pass to Dalian DLC to London LHR on Zhuang Airlines. Zhuang Airlines. He’d have to show Minyard.

He then thanked Wilds who said it was no worry and if he ever needed a call or just to plan a get-together, she’d be down for it. Neil smiled at her and left the office.

 

 

Andrew arrived at the Bank yet again with Renee besides him. They came back from a sparring match and he finally remembered something he had to ask. Renee had nothing better to do so she ended up tagging along. They wouldn’t be staying for long as he just needed to check up on a quick concern.

Once arriving inside, and into an office located by the end hallway, the accountant named Amanda had spread out all of Van Coon’s receipts on her desk and raised an eyebrow at him.

Renee smiled at her as Amanda didn’t look so happy for them to be here nor for her to waste her time looking for any kind of receipts Van Coon had.

“What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?” Renee asked her.

“Um, no. That’s not a word I’d use. The only things Eddie appreciated had big price tags.” She said blankly. Andrew stared down at the receipts while Amanda reached for her phone and checked her texts. Renee tried to make small conversation but it wasn’t working too well. Amanda just hummed or said a small response, yet Renee continued on chatting about whatsoever as Andrew flicked through every single paper. He then noticed a hand cream by the corner of her desk and raised an eyebrow.

“Price tags like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didn’t he?” Andrew looked amused yet Amanda didn’t. She fiddled nervously with the pin in her hair, and looked at him with a mix between a surprised look and a frustrated look. Andrew shuffled through the paperwork again, ignoring her blatant stare and picked up a receipt from a licensed taxi. Dated the 22nd of November, and timed at 10:35. He then handed it up to Amanda with a smug expression. “Won’t you look at this. He got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds, fifty.”

“Yes and that would get him to the office.” Amanda replied.

“Not rush hour. Check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as-”

“The West End. I remember him saying.” Amanda said. Andrew smiled condescendingly. He took another receipt and showed it to Amanda who looked nervous as she took it from his hands.

“Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly.” He said.

“So he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the Tube back?” Renee asked.

Andrew scattered through the receipts again. “Because he was delivering something heavy. Didn’t want to lug a package up the escalator.”

Amanda looked confused. “Delivering?”

“To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it and then-” But Andrew cut himself off as he found the receipt he’d been expecting. The one on the same date as the taxi, the one to an espresso bar. “-stopped on his way. He got hungry.” He said and looked to Renee who got the message and they wished Amanda a good day.

They were halfway out of the building when Renee asked, “So about Neil...”

“There’s nothing to him.”

“Just wondering. You seem cozy with him and I wanted to know if it would affect anything. You do remember what happened, are you sure you're ready Andrew?”

“I said he was nothing.” Andrew stared at her and continued walking, ignoring the rest of her comments on the way back.

 

 

Andrew met Josten at the espresso bar some time later. The two decided to have a small snack in comfortable silence and just appreciated each other's company. That didn’t last long, however. “So Van Coon bought his lunch from here en route to the station, but where was he headed from? Where did the taxi drop him?” He asked. Josten shrugged like he had no clue to what Andrew was referring to.

“Right. So I have something.” Josten started but Andrew shushed him.

“Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died. Whatever was hidden inside that case. I’ve managed to piece together a picture using scraps of information.”

Josten didn’t look amused. “Andrew.” He said but Andrew ignored him.

“From his credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here.”

“Andrew-”

“Somewhere in this street. Near here, but where-”

“Jesus christ, Andrew.” Josten sighed and pointed to the near by shop from across the cafe. “That shop over there.” Andrew looked over to where Josten was pointing and frowned.

“How can you tell?”

Josten took out a book, a diary more or less, and handed it to him. “Lukis’ diary. He was here too. He wrote down the address.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows, impressed. And they both finished their coffee - Josten simply having black and Andrew four spoonfuls of sugar in his own - and headed out towards the designated shop.

It was touristy, that much was obvious, having a Chinese theme going on. Decorative cats that signified luck, many lanterns on the ceiling and everything had a sort of red color to it. It was called the Lucky Cat.

They both end up faced with a female shop keeper who grinned massively at them. Andrew nodded her way in acknowledgment and started to look around all the items on display. The shop keeper turned to Josten and smiled, lifted one of the cats from the desk.

“You want lucky cat?”

Josten back away a bit. “No, thanks.”

“Only ten pounds. Ten!” She insisted.

“No.” He repeated.

“I think your wife, she will like!” The woman cheered.

This time Josten frowned, ignoring the woman and walked over to Andrew - who seemed rather amused by the look on his partner’s face.

One of the tables in the center of the shop had small ceramic painted cups on it. Josten was examining a rack displaying clay statues and picked up one of the cups and turned it over to look at the price tag. He looked quite shocked at the item and Andrew wondered how expensive it must be to make Neil Josten widen his eyes.

“Andrew.” He said and Andrew was already by his side to look at the cups. Oh, now he understood. Instead of numbers, the back of the item had a few Chinese symbol stuck on the underside. But it was the same sort of symbols that were painted on Sir William Shad’s portrait and in the library shelf after finding Brian Lukis dead.

They found their clue after all.

 

 

The boys left the shop after that, Neil saw that Minyard had many thoughts on his mind, and ignored the lady screaming about cats behind their backs as they walked away. The symbols were exactly the same and Neil wondered why. Minyard seemed like he knew the answer but was keeping everything to himself.

“Entertain me.” Neil said.

Minyard rolled his eyes, knowing well Neil was only asking because of what he found out from that small field trip to the Chinese souvenir store. Minyard worked fast. “It’s an ancient number system. Hangzhou.” Minyard repeated and the accent he used for the Chinese word almost made Neil worry to how much Minyard really knew. “These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at the bank and at the library.” Minyard explained but Neil still looked like he was out of it.

The two boys then ended up in a grocery store near China town and Neil wondered why Minyard was grocery shopping all of a sudden.

“Groceries while I’m here.” Minyard told him after he asked, and grabbed a basket, filling it with chips and candies.

Neil put in some vegetables and pasta while he was at it too because if it were only up to Minyard, he would be making sugar on a plate.

Minyard then went over to the cake section and handed Josten the card number with the price tag on it. “The symbols. They were numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect.” He said and Neil looked at the price which was at 15 pounds, and under the price had the Chinese equivalent. The same symbol on the portrait at the bank.

“It’s a... fifteen.” Neil said and looked at the blond.

“And at the library? That was a number as well.” He showed Neil a packet of gum for 1 pound and the same Chinese symbol as the library shelf. “The Chinese number one, Josten.” 

“You found it.” Neil smiled.

“We.” Minyard pointed out and turned away. Neil didn't falter his smile and followed his friend out. But by the time they got out, Neil's eyes fell onto someone's own. A woman was at the other end of the street, in all black including sunglasses and a hood over her head only showing her hair and other features of her face. A camera was in her hand yet it was pointed right at the two of them. Neil frowned and looked to the camera and back to her face - unrecognizable.

“Why’d you buy vegetables?” Minyard asked and Neil looked at him for a second, then back to the woman who was nowhere in sight. He wondered if she was just a tourist but something in his stomach was telling him it was not entirely that simple, and Neil felt a sense of worry. "Josten?"

“Andrew-” He started and when the other male looked at him in question, with a mouth full of cake, “When the fuck did you get cake?”

“When I showed you the price. I actually wanted cake and it was just a coincidence it was 15 pounds.” He said and Neil stared blankly at him. Did Minyard just admit to figuring out the code by buying cake at random, and just so happen to stumble upon the number?

Neil looked down to the cake and laughed a little.

Minyard rolled his eyes and both boys walked away, one somewhat happier munching cake to which only changed his expression a tad, the other wondering why he was even existing at this point.

 

 

Shortly afterwards, the boys came by a small two floor apartment complex. It was the same one in the diary Josten showed Andrew. He wrote down the two Hangzhou numbers and their English equivalents onto a paper napkin he found in the grocery store, after putting away the shopping items into his car and shoved the paper into his pants.

Josten seemed to be toying with the strings of his hoodie in waiting. Finally, sighing, he tried to piece why they were here in a simple sentence. “Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What did they see to get themselves killed?” He asked.

“It’s not what they saw, it’s what they both brought back in those suitcases.” Andrew clarified. “Think about what Sebastian told us, about Van Coon. About how he stayed afloat in the market.”

“He lost five million.”

“Made it back in a week.” Andrew continued. Josten hummed. “That’s how he made such easy money.”

“He was a smuggler.”

“A guy like him – it would have been perfect. The perfect crime. A business man making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same, a journalist writing _about_ China. Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off.” He said.

“But why did they die? If they both turned up at the shop and delivered the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after they’d finished the job?” Josten asked.

“Oh you know all about that, Josten.” Andrew looked smug, Josten didn’t like that answer apparently and waited for a new one. Andrew seemed unfazed. “What if one of them was light-fingered?”

“How?”

“Stole something. Not just any something, but something from the hoard.”

Josten nodded. “And the killer doesn’t know which of them took it, so he threatens them both.” He said. Andrew nodded as well, looking up at the windows of the building and narrowed his eyes.

“Remind me, when was the last time that it rained?” He asked Josten. But without waiting for a reply, Andrew went to pick up the newspaper on the ground in front of the shop, and ran a finger over the top.

“It’s been here since Monday.” Josten told him. That was three days ago. And nobody had picked it up yet? Andrew straightened up and pressed the doorbell. He only waited a couple of seconds, then looked to his right and headed off in that direction. There was an alleyway beside the apartment and the boys walked down the alley.

“No one’s been in that flat for at least three days.” He told Josten.

“Could’ve gone on holiday.”

Andrew stared at him.

“Okay, no holiday.”

“The windows open, of course no holiday.” Andrew deadpanned and reached the side of the building and looked up to see a small angled rooftop. Climbing up, Andrew entered the open window.

“Andrew.” Josten called from the ground. Andrew saluted him and went inside. A notion for Josten to not follow and stay on guard.

When inside a kitchen, Andrew almost knocked down a flower vase from the way the window was placed. No matter what happened, that vase would have be knocked down yet Andrew was quick enough to catch it before it fell. Reflexes, he was thankful for them. Maybe that waste of Exy he did in college paid off. But as he looked down, Andrew saw a wet patch on the carpet in the precise place where the vase _would_ have hit if it had reached the floor. Someone else haf been here, and they came out the window.

Somebody else broke into the apartment. Somebody other than the owner, knocked over the vase just like he almost did.

The question was: did they find what was needed to be found?

He decided to investigate further. And the room itself was a mess, which was first indications that one; somebody was looking for something. Two; the owner hadn't been here for a while.

There were dirty dishes in the sink, dirty laundry everywhere and perhaps some food in the oven that had definitely been passed it’s burning point. Right to the crisp and just black ashes. Papers were scattered on the floor and some placements recently moved.

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Someone’s been here.” He tried to tell Josten through the window but the other one just answers a, "What?", in retaliation and even then it was pretty faint. Andrew looked down to where a footprint had marked the rug, leaving an impression of a shoe. A size eight feet, he noted. He put his fingers onto the print and froze after realizing it was fresh and recently made.

Perhaps they just left, meaning Andrew had the advantage.

He picked up a framed photograph of two young Chinese children – a boy and a girl. A fresh handprint was on the glass where someone had pressed their fingers against the image of the girl. Andrew gently ran his gloved fingers along them to gauge the size. Small, but strong hands. Possibly an acrobat. Andrew frowned. Why didn’t the intruder close the window when they left, then?

Unless.

Before he had time to think, hands reached up and quickly wrapped around his neck and mouth. Andrew widened his eyes and elbowed the person in the ribs and heard a small groan from them. He then took out a knife from his sleeve and grabbed the assailant from his collar of his shirt, pinning him on the wall. The man tried to take a swing, but Andrew was fast enough to stop him and threw a punch back, making the other fall down.

Soon after, the attacker seemed to have a knife and swung at Andrew, cutting his arm a little bit. Andrew didn’t seem pleased by that and tried to grab onto the intruder, but they ran away before he could do anything to him and hopped out the window. Andrew stood there in confusion, wondering whether to run after him or check if Josten was alright.

That was until he felt something in his pocket that wasn’t there before, the attacker must of put it there somehow. It was a black origami paper flower, the same as all the victims had. Andrew stared at it momentarily, then quickly went to check on Josten. The latter seemed to be sitting on the ground in front of the door with a scowl on his face. A sigh of relief slipped by Andrew and he cursed himself for it. He shouldn’t be worried about Josten’s safety.

He was nothing, after all.

 

 

“The milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago.” Andrew explained to Josten, not mentioning anything else once he went out of the apartment to join him and get the fuck out of there.

Josten seemed skeptical. “Somebody?”

Andrew nodded. “Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her.” He said.

“Andrew, you’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s blood.”

Andrew stared at Josten, said nothing more and handed him an envelope. It read:

_Soo Lin. Please ring me, tell me you’re okay. - Andy_

And at the bottom of the envelope the location of delivery was the National Antiquities Museum. “Maybe we could start with that.” Andrew said and headed towards his car, unlocking the door.

“What happened in there?”

“I fell.”

Josten wasn’t taking it, but didn’t nudge for more answer. They both were in the car and while Andrew was busy on the road, Josten seemed to take interest in the window. “How are you and Boyd so close? - I’m taking a turn.”

“We go far and had some trouble a while back. He avoided me for a long time but our relationship then grew to more understanding each other than hatred.”

“Yes, but what happened?”

“Two turns I see. You’ll owe me.”

“Whatever. Just answer, you're response was not _worthy_ enough.” He mocked Andrew's earlier response with the wrong question Josten had used.

“I promised someone I’d fix his drug problem, so we went out to a bar and he took speedballs.” Josten winced, Andrew was somewhat surprised the male knew what that meant. “I needed to see how much he could withstand before collapsing. After that, he stopped drugs all together.”

“That’s a harsh way of doing it.”

“It’s quick and now he’s recovered. We do dumb shit for the sake of it, I wasn't in my right mind either. But Matt is, indeed, better and happier.”

“You want me to thank you or something?” Josten raised an eyebrow and Andrew scoffed.

“You’re not afraid?”

“Why would I be?”

“Many reasons.” Andrew replied.

“So then are you afraid of me?” Josten asked, interested.

“You are more of a problem, and I’ll solve you.”

“So then ask a question. You get two.” There was a small silence as Andrew concentrated on the road.

“Who’s Romero?”

“A friend of my father’s. Helped torture and kept the ground secure, and was loyal to the Butchee. He was Lola’s brother, a girl I would hate to cross paths with and who gave me most of my scars. She's second in command, while he's a simple advisor who knows his fair share of death. Not sure what happened to the siblings. Romero left, Lola wasn't seen with them, the feds said she was taken in like I said.” Josten shrugged, then slouched down in his seat. “What's the second question?”

“I’ll save the next for another day.” Andrew said instead of a response once he realised Josten had given him a little too much truth right there.

Josten nodded and they drove away in silence towards the Museum.

 

 

The Museum itself was quite grande. It held many windows and a large door surrounded by large statues and models of some sort. Minyard was pacing around a display area as he talked to a worker, the one who messaged Soo Lin - Andy, Neil remembered.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Minyard asked.

The man looked worried. “Three days ago, here at the museum.”

Minyard focused briefly on a glass case showing some of the clay teapots. Most of them were dull, Neil noticed, but one seemed shinier than the others. Neil stared at it a little too long, humming in interest. Was this how Minyard felt? It was weird.

“This morning they told me she’d resigned just like that.” Andy looked to the point of tears. Minyard looked at another case containing some figurines as Andy tried to find words to say over the situation. “J-just left her work unfinished.”

That must be why one of the clay pots was shinier, Neil noted.

“What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?” Minyard asked. Andy just looked at him with confusion, then nodded quickly, leading them to a basement archive. Once all the lights were turned on, Andy led them further down.

“She does this demonstration for the tourists – a tea ceremony. So she would have packed up her things and just put them in here.” Andy said and they ended up in a room with white drapes over all the objects in the room. In the further part of the basement, a life-sized sculpture of a nude woman was seen, with yellow paint sprayed across her eyes. Minyard clicked his tongue, and Neil sighed and thanked Andy for showing them, leaving the boy to weep on his own.

They were outside the Museum when Minyard spoke up, looking over the building, “We have to get to Soo Lin Yao.”

Neil huffed. “If she’s still alive.”

“Andrew!” A loud voice was heard as they exited the museum. The boys turned to see Raz run over to join them.

“Oh look who it is.” Minyard grinned unpleasantly.

“Found something you’ll like.” Raz wiggled his eyebrows and fingers.

He led them away towards a bridge towards the south side of the city river. On the other side of the bridge was a ramp made out of cement, and many kids were gathered around, skating down and having a fun time. A boy seemed to just have done some kind of clever jump on his skateboard since a girl laughed and his friends cheered, saying it was rad.

Raz pointed to a particular area on the heavily-graffitied walls, close by where the skaters were but far enough that they weren't in a hearing distance. “There. I spotted it earlier.” Among all the other tagged art, were slashes of yellow paint forming codes and symbols that were fairly similar.

Minyard looked over to Neil. “They have been in here.” He said, then turned back to Raz. “And that’s the exact same paint?”

Raz waved his hands around as if gesturing to his discovery. “Duh.” 

Minyard nodded. “Josten, if we’re going to decipher this code, we’re gonna need to look for more evidence.” He said and the addressed male nodded, heading his own way around the skate park as Minyard went in the opposite direction. Raz looked confused but shrugged and went to join his skater friends.

 

 

It was quite dark out, as the boys spent all day trying to decipher and figure out what the codes meant. Yet Andrew always preferred the night; it was quiet, calm and you could hear and smell things you couldn't during the day. The stars were somewhere behind the haze of black cloud that was stretched thinly above. The moonlight bleached the world momentarily.

He walked for a good mile, relaxing as he finally heard nothing but silence. Perhaps because he was either a good distance from the skaters, or that they had left for the night. Either way, he was pleased. Alone and pleased. Despite it, Andrew still felt like he was missing something. Or someone.

He ended up walking along the end of a railway line, a track that probably wouldn’t have had a train anytime soon. It didn't have one ever. It was the only track that people could hang around without the loomimg threat of a train coming their way. Most hippies liked to stay there during the day, Andrew found it somewhat sane at night. Minus the daylight hippies of course.

Near the track, an abandoned spray was left, recently used. Squatting down to pick it up, Andrew put the end of his flashlight into his mouth and ran a thumb over the yellow paint on the nozzle. Walking through an underpass, he looked closely at the graffiti and posters on the walls as he went. They all seemed like ads, some seemed like meet and greets, clubs, and others some sort of communication for the local druggies. A bake sale in the middle of the train track next Tuesday? Unlikely. It was probably a cover up, and nobody ever came by this side of the forest and river to see advertisements on bake sales. They were lucky Andrew wasn't a detective for drug busts and illegal substance uses. He cared less about that, that was Gordon's job.

A rustle was heard near the other side of the wall and a few leaves crunched in the distance. Footsteps. Though before Andrew could do anything drastic, Josten came face to face with him when Andrew rounded the corner. They both froze in place at the sight of one another. Finally, Andrew back away and pulled out a breath.

Dammit Josten.

The tree branches shifted in the night breeze and silence fell upon them as the two boys just stared at each other. Josten seemed like he ran here, slightly out of breath but he was a runner after all.

Finally, after sorting themselves out, they stood near the railway, both their flashlights in hand, directing towards the ground and even then, Andrew could almost see Josten’s freckles from the dim light. He was handsome and Andrew would only admit that to himself. The features on the boy’s face were clear - even in the dark.

Maybe it wasn’t because Andrew knew every detail to Josten’s face by memory, that he could take a piece of paper and draw everything without even looking at Josten once. He tried not to picture the smile he preserved in his brain that the boy sometimes let out. The little ticks that Andrew wasn’t used to, that Andrew never knew he would feel. And he hated it. He hated Josten so fucking much.

“I’ve found it.” Josten then broke the silence they were keeping. Unaware, Andrew went back into focus, and tried not to think about anything other than the case at hand. He shouldn’t be distracted in the first place anyways. So he nodded, and Josten made him follow into the dark, flashlights the only thing keeping them from disappearing into the void.

Josten seemed to have led Andrew towards another wall, closer to the backside of the river. Though Josten stopped mid tracked and furrowed his eyebrows, looking more confused than he ever was. His mouth almost dropped in surprise, his shoulders tensing slightly. Andrew didn’t know what he was looking at, it was just a blank wall. “It’s been painted over.” Josten said quietly. “How the fuck did they paint it over?”

Andrew touched the wall and it seemed to be wet, whatever was here, whatever Josten saw, was far gone now. The latter still looked at the wall in disbelief and a frustrated scowl made it’s way, like the wall had just offended the male. “I don’t understand. It was here,” Josten stumbled backwards. “Ten minutes ago. I saw it. A whole load of graffiti. The codes. Everything. It was here. The wall was covered in those yellow painted numbers.” Josten said.

Andrew clicked his tongue. “Somebody doesn’t want me to see it.”

Josten seemed on the urge of confusion and Andrew looked to the male in question, coming close enough so they were inches apart just like before, without either touching one another. “Can you concentrate?" He asked.

Nodding, Josten looked back to the wall as if knowing what Andrew was talking about.

"Then concentrate, Josten. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes. Trust me.” He said. Josten looked like he wanted to say something, but closed his eyes anyways as if to amuse the blond. “I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you picture it?” Andrew asked.

Josten with his eyes still shut, nodded once more.

“Can you remember it?”

“Yes.” He replied.

“Can you remember the pattern?”

Josten eyebrows knitted together. “Yeah.”

“How much can you remember it?”

“A lot, I-”

“Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate.”

Josten snorted and opened his eyes. “Yeah, well, thing is. I don’t need to. I took a photograph.” He handed Andrew the phone, Andrew looked at him then took the device. Since when did Josten take his phone off him? Andrew let it be because it was good that Josten had something by him at all times. And the fact that Josten didn't seem as worried as he was before when holding a cell phone.

Andrew opened to the photos and a recent picture of the wall was added. It showed all the yellow symbols clearly, every single one on the long wall. Covering everything and seeming exactly like the things they would need. He gave the phone back to Josten and smiled. The latter smiled back.

 

 

221B almost became a crime centre by how many photos and information Andrew had in the living room. The photograph had been blown up into small sections and then printed out, all the pictures stuck on the wall. The numerical value of each symbol had been written against it - the Chinese equivalent. Andrew was standing at the fireplace looking at the pictures closely and had spotted a pattern. They were always in pairs. He explained his theory to Josten when he came in with a bowl of cereal in hand. He hoped that wasn’t the last of the Coco Pops, if not Josten was a dead man.

“What do you mean in pairs?” He said as he crunched down on a spoonful of his cereal, sitting at the dining table facing Andrew.

“Numbers come with partners.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Josten asked, changing the subject.

“Are you not interested in this discovery?”

“Yes, but I’m just questioning your sleeping habits. You spend all night figuring out this case file, and you just need to rest, Andrew.” Josten held up his spoon and pointed towards Andrew with it, waving it around as if gesturing him. When Andrew just stared blankly at him, Josten sighed. “Okay fine. Why did he paint it so near the tracks?” He said to amuse Andrew but seemed more or less tired than usual.

“Thousands of people pass by there every day.”

Josten hummed as he ate another spoonful, once he swallowed he added, “But just in twenty minutes? Not even, probably less. Nobody can paint as much in so little time.”

“Of course.” Andrew said as if he found something out. He looked back at the photos and pointed towards them, grinning triumphantly. “He wants information. He’s trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back.”

Josten laughed. “Underworld as in what? Demons, satan-”

“Underworld as in people in the same business, doing dirty work behind the government's back. Is your brain as thick as that mouth of yours to not understand?” Josten frowned and crunched loudly on his Coco Pops to show how big his mouth could get with gritted teeth. Andrew, ignoring the male, directed a finger to the image of the many codes Josten found the previous night. “The information they seek is somewhere here in the code. We can’t crack this without Soo Lin Yao.” He said and Josten knew this meant another trip to the Museum once again, and groaned.

“Great.” He said, sounding tired.

 

 

“Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals.” Minyard pointed a finger to Andy who looked quite frightened by the shorter male. Who knew such a midget could bring out such a strong aura. “Soo Lin Yao’s in danger. Now, that cipher – it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well.”

“Look, I’ve tried everywhere; friends, colleagues. I don’t know where she’s gone. I mean, she could be a thousand miles away.” Andy said, stuttering throughout his words. Minyard turned his head away in exasperation, though his gaze seemed to be focused on the nearby glass case displaying the teapots. Neil tried to see what he was getting at. “What?” He asked.

Minyard looked to Andy again. “Tell me more about those teapots.”

“The pots were her obsession. They need urgent work. If they dry out, then the clay can start to crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them.” Andy shrugged.

Minyard bend down to look more closely at the shelf and then looked at Neil.

“Yesterday, only one of those pots was shining. Now there are two.” He said.

Neil noticed he was right, smiling proudly at himself. However that information meant that someone had been washing them often, and the only other person who took care of them was the apparently missing girl.

 

 

Later, Neil and Minyard were camping in the hallway of the museum. Waiting for anybody to enter and wash the so called cups to prove their theory right. It was Minyard’s idea after all, and on multiple occasions Neil found himself drifting off to sleep. He, by accident, ended up resting his head on Minyard’s shoulder at some point and quickly backed away from the blond who still held no emotion to the accident that enrolled. Minyard didn't seem annoyed by it, however he didnt seem encouraged by the act. Perhaps it was due to Minyard not taking his eyes off from the front doors, and Neil seeming rather bored and tired so he fell asleep rather quickly, not noticing the position they were in. Either way, Minyard was a vague mystery to Neil's wonder.

Frankly Neil _wanted_ to sleep but knew it was a bad idea. So his thoughts were all over the place.

He even went back to his days on the run and how he had to stay awake day and night, only a couple hours rest when he thought he was in a safer place with his mother at his side. Yet she woke him up all the time, only for them to start running again. Sometimes meeting trouble, ending up injured and wasting breaths on escaping. He remembered being so sleep deprived he ended up hallucinating at some points, which didn’t help whatsoever as he was more wary of everything. He soon got used to the feeling until his mother died. Ever since his father was shot by his uncle.

It all changed since then, perhaps for the better.

 

 

Andrew was wondering what was taking the woman so long.

That was until he saw something move in the corner of his eyes.

A few moments in thought, Andrew nudged Josten back to reality, who was startled awake and wondering where he was for a second.

Andrew finally noticed the shadow moved across the dimly lit display room in sight. Hands reached into the glass case to take out one of some teapots. The person in the dark cloak, lifted their hood off to reveal a woman, perhaps Soo Lin herself.

She started to pour tea into the teapot and carefully stroked the cup to let the water gush around the rim. Andrew started casually creeping up behind her and tapped her shoulder. Subtly at it's finest, Josten smirked. 

The woman seemed startled and almost screamed, almost dropping her cup. She backed away quickly from the blond. Josten was by his side in seconds, staring at the girl. His seemed unfazed by her reaction and reached out, flicking a switch on the desk which turned on the lights of the room.

He grinned unpleasantly at the girl. “Hello.”

Soo Lin didn’t hesitate when she said, “Who are you?”

“Here to help.” Andrew sounded bored and Soo Lin looked confused but didn’t seem to stagger away.

“So you know. You saw the cipher. Then you also know he is coming for me.” She said.

Andrew waved his hands around a bit, “You’ve been clever to avoid him so far.”

“I had to finish,” She snapped, and took a long breath to calm herself. “To finish this work. It’s only a matter of time. I know he will find me.”

“Who is he? Have you met him before?” Andrew asked.

Soo Lin nodded. “When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognize his-” She paused for a second. “His signature.”

“The cipher.” Josten declared. Andrew nodded in agreement.

“Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu.” She sounded hurt and her voice croaked slightly on the name.

“Zhi Zhu?” Josten asked, a little smug look on his face.

“The Spider.” She translated. Josten furrowed his eyebrows this time round, probably not the translation he was expecting. He opened his mouth to question, but Soo Lin took off her shoe in the process. On the underside of her heel was a black tattoo of a lotus flower. The same as the origami on the other deceased corpses. “You know this mark?”

“Yes. It’s the mark of a Tong.” Andrew spoke up. Josten looked at him as if he was questioning everything at the moment. “Ancient crime syndicate based in China.”

Josten looked a little less confused now. A little.

“Every foot soldier bears the mark, everyone who hauls for them.” Soo Lin said.

“Hauls? You mean you were a smuggler?” Josten asked without emotion. Andrew couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Other than being partly confused, partly understanding the topic at hand. Soo Lin lowered her gaze and put her shoe back on.

“I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood. No way of surviving day to day except to work for the bosses.” She said.

Sounds like someone Andrew knew, so he leaned in. “Who are they?” 

“They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." She smiled. “They gave me a job here. Everything was good. I started a new life.”

“Then he came looking for you.” Josten said.

Her look went slightly darker. “Yes.” She said. Josten looked to Andrew as if he was processing the matter. Andrew was indeed. But why did they come looking for her? Perhaps she did something they didn’t like and came after her because of it. That would make sense. “I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never really let you leave. A small community like ours – they are never very far away.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “He came to my flat. He asked me to help him track down something that was stolen.”

“And you’ve no idea what it was?” Josten titled his head.  
  
“No. I refused to help.”

“So you knew him well when you were living back in China? That's it?” Soo Lin looked to Josten and nodded.

“Oh yes.” Then to Andrew, “He’s my brother.” Silence came over the room and Soo Lin sighed. “Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan – the Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and the cipher was waiting."

Andrew then laid a photograph in front of the woman. “Can you decipher these?” Soo Lin leaned forward and pointed to the marks.

"These are numbers.” She said.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“Here, the line across the man’s portrait, it’s the Chinese number one.”

“And this one is fifteen.” He said surely after pointing to the next cipher. “But what’s the code?”

“All the smugglers know it. It’s based upon a book.” She said but didn’t have enough time to explain as all the lights went off at once. Andrew tried to look around but it was too dark to see, he could only see the figures of the two people in front of him and the doors on the outer rims of the room.

Soo Lin sounded terrified when she muttered, “He’s here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me.”

“I’ll be back, stay here.” Andrew touched Josten’s arm slightly and then charged out of the room as Josten led Soo Lin to somewhere safer than the middle of the exhibition.

Andrew entered into a large open foyer with a staircase at each end and a balcony surrounding the floor above. He stopped in the middle of the foyer and looked around. A figure ran across the balcony and fired a pistol at him. Andrew stumbled away in shock, not expecting the culprit to have had a weapon.

Andrew started to slide away behind a wall to not get shot. He could do nothing against a gun.

The figure fired a couple more times on Andrew, who tried to scramble behind a column to get a better view of the situation. When Andrew turned to see who attacked him, tilting his head around the column, the figure was gone and disappeared from view.

He crossed the room to see where he could have gone until he found the figure running around on the second floor in sight. Andrew reached the stairs and tried to chase after him but wasn’t fast enough as more shots came his way, he slipped past hallways to take cover from them and soon the attacker went into a room on the other side. Of course, Andrew thought it was the wisest idea to go in after him. So he did and ducked behind many ancient statues to hide from a killer in the premises who appeared to be shooting at random in the dim room.

“Careful now,” Andrew said with a grin. “Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old. Have a bit of respect.”

The gunman ceased fire and Andrew peaked round to see nobody in the room once more. Where the fuck did he go so fast? Was what he said that bad?

But a gunshot was heard in the distance, away from Andrew and sounding as if it came from downstairs.

Andrew’s heart sank as he raced out of the room in seek of Josten. He stumbled quickly down the stairs and bumped into Josten when rounding another column. 

“Are you okay?” Josten’s eyes went wide.

“Why are you here, I told you to stay back there?”

“I heard gunshots. You could have been dead, Andrew.” Josten snapped.

“What about Soo Lin?” Andrew asked and another gunshot was heard before Josten could reply. If it wasn’t directed at the both of them, then-

They started to run. Back into the room they were previously in and slowly looked around for any sign of the attacker. Carefully making their way across the room, they stopped and then stared at the sight. Soo Lin. And yet, she was dead. Lying on the table, was her deceased corps with a black origami flower in hand and a red stain covering the clothes on her chest.

They were too late.

 

 

“How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac is out there?” Andrew slammed a paper file in front of Wilds, looking rather frustrated.

“I can’t just claim it as a murder if we have no proof it was. You know the protocol, Minyard. I’m sorry. It’s not my point to say.”

“A young girl was gunned down tonight. That’s three victims in three days. You’re supposed to be finding the killer, and if that doesn’t sound like murder than you may need to check what is.” Josten said.

Andrew seemed calmer as Josten stepped in for him. “Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers – a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose.” He said and pointed a finger to point out his realisation. Wilds looked at him with a pitiful look and Andrew hated it.

“Can you prove it?” Wilds said, not to sound condescending but more hopeful. She wanted them to show her _how_ and _why,_ so she could change the protocol, so it could be deemed indeed murder. She believed them. And this was their chance to show it, to prove everyone else wrong. To make her accumulate enough proof to call in to the Department and claim it a killing spree. Andrew nodded as did Josten. Wilds tried to hide a grin, but was failing at it.

 

 

In the cafeteria of the Hospital Renee worked at, Andrew dug forcibly into a brownie he bought at the small canteen. “Pork or the pasta?” Renee asked looking towards the canteen wondering what she wanted to eat for dinner.

Andrew continued to eat as he said, “I’d stick with the pasta. Don’t wanna be doing roast pork, not if you will be slicing up corpses.” He said, sounding bored and Renee smiled at him.

“Are you just having the brownie then?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a brownie. And I don’t like eating when I’m working. Digesting slows me down.” He said.

“Except for brownies.” Andrew hummed to that. “So you’re working here tonight?”

“Need to examine some bodies.” He said, sounding less enthusiastic as he made it out to be.

“Some?” Renee looked amused.

“Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis.”

She looked at the clipboard on the side of where she was sitting, drinking a cup of tea as she read throughout her list. “They’re on there.”

Andrew nodded. “So mind pulling some strings and wheel them out again for me?”

Renee clicked her tongue. “Andrew, the paperwork’s already gone through.”

“So? You’ve done it before.”

Renee laughed. “Yeah, I have.” There was a small silence before Renee even considered it. “Okay, in condition if you talk to me about Neil.”

Andrew stared at her, disapproval in his eyes. “No.”

She shrugged. “Then no bodies for you.”

“I’ll just take them out myself.” He said. Renee raised an eyebrow and they stared at each other for a long time before Andrew sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Why are you holding onto him?”

He asked himself the same question as well. Many times before. Josten seemed interesting, perhaps. From out of the guys Andrew knew, Josten was the only one who knew boundaries, who didn’t press on about matter. Who took his time to get to know Andrew, and who waited as Andrew finally started to trust him. Throughout time, without complaining, Josten waited by Andrew’s side and they only knew about each other for little under a month now. Josten let Andrew be, as Andrew did the same back. 

And yet the same occurred when they _did_ need each other. That mutual understanding they had was something Andrew was confusingly happy to have. He didn’t want to let it go. But Josten was a bomb. The longer you held onto it, the more likely it was to explode. Josten was only here because Andrew let him, being protected from his father's people - maybe even someone worse. That once this was all over, he’d run away oncr again.

Andrew couldn’t hold on for long and _want_ something. Because if he wanted something, it would always slip away and break him. Andrew didn’t want to be any more broken then he was, but why was his mind telling him to keep on latching on?

“I don’t know.” He told Renee finally, which was the honest truth. “He’s interesting.”

“That’s what you said about Matt. Even if you two are still good friends, you don’t live together. Neil seems different than anybody you usually find amusing. Anyone who would just be a toy to you."

“He’s a problem; and I’ll solve him.”

“Maybe he’s a problem to you, not just in general." She smiled faintly. "But also the solution you’ve been looking for.”

“He’s not the solution to my experiences. He’s a person who just happens to have come into my life and made things more complicated than they should be.”

“So do you consider him as a mutual then? Are you interested?”

“I’m interested in all the reasons you aren’t thinking of. He’s a nobody and I’m only doing a job. I should never have the feelings you expect me to have, I won’t think that way anymore - as I never did.”

“It doesn’t seem like that way, Andrew. Do you want me to talk to him?” Andrew waved a hand in dismissal to let the matter slide. Renee, however, took it by another route. “What do you want me to say?”

“That wasn't a yes.” He frowned.

“I can tell him if he ever comes to me. I would have to introduce myself first though. Would you let him know I’m always available for a chat?” She smiled, Andrew nodded and she let the matter slide as they both entered the Morgue.

Two body bags were lying on adjacent tables in the Morgue room. Renee wore latex gloves as she unzipped the top of Brian Lukis’ corpse, revealing his face for Andrew to see. As Renee took out the bodies, Andrew gave it in him to call up Wilds. She arrived a few minutes later, like she just came out from bed.

“We’re just interested in the feet.” He told Renee who unzipped the other side of the bag, showing the two feet of the body. On the bottom of the right heel was a tattoo identical to the one which Soo Lin showed Andrew and Josten earlier. Andrew straightened up, and walked over to the other table. “Now Van Coon.”

Renee and Wilds followed him to the second table and she unzipped the other body bag. Van Coon had the same identical tattoo on his right heel. Wilds smiled slightly.

“So-”

“So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or I’m telling the truth.” Andrew said and Wilds looked amused.

“What do you need?” She asked.

Andrew looked somewhat excited, as much as he would normally show. The slight raise in eyebrow was sufficient enough. “I want every book from Lukis’ apartment and Van Coon’s.” Wilds looked confused to his demand, but nodded as she left the Morgue.

Renee gave Andrew a last smile before he left the building and drove away into his car to think some more before heading back home.

 

 

Neil was sleeping on the couch when Minyard came back. He stirred awake when he heard the door close in the silent room and looked around to see Minyard walk in and sit on the carpet in front of him, placing his laptop on the coffee table.

“It’s not just a criminal organisation, it’s a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders.” Minyard said when Neil sat back up and looked down at the blond He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands and stretched out a little bit before settling besides Minyard.

“Soo Lin said the name.” Neil tried to remember.

“Yes, Shan, General Shan.” Minyard typed it up online but nothing appeared.

Neil clicked his tongue. “We’re still no closer to finding them.”

Minyard huffed. “Wrong there. We’ve got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing pieces.” He said and then looked at Neil who was sitting next to Minyard as the latter slightly closed the laptop. He seemed to be waiting for Neil to explain his theory, but Neil knew nothing. He was tired, even more than before and had no links to this case that could help him in any way. Minyard seemed impatient and asked, “Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?”

“She worked at the museum.” Neil said.

“Exactly.”

“An expert in antiquities. Oh.” He said. “I see.”

“Valuable antiquities, Josten. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China’s home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao’s revolution.” Neil knew a little bit about that subject. Apparently in the mid 19’s, China's communist leader - Mao Zedong - launched what was known as the Cultural Revolution in order to reassert his authority over the Chinese government because _apparently_ he didn’t like how the country worked or something.

“And the Black Lotus is selling them.” Neil noted. 

Minyard reopened his laptop and searched for an auction website. When finding one, he looked for the newest bids to appear. Neil knew what he was doing, finding out if anything was for sale. If anything from the black market that is. Minyard checked the dates, and pointed to a particular auction on two Chinese vases. “Here.” He said and Neil hummed. “Arrived from China four days ago.” He skimmed through all the details and looked at the ‘sale information’ mark, at the bottom of the page said the source of the vase was anonymous.

“Anonymous. Vendor doesn’t give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the East.” Neil pointed out. “One in Lukis’ suitcase and one in Van Coon’s.”

Minyard moved to the another site and typed something into the search bar.

“Antiquities sold at auction.” He said as he searched throughout all the items involving ancient chinese artifacts. “Here’s another one. Arrived from China a month ago, a Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred thousand.”

Neil pointed to another artifact. “Look, about a month before that, a chinese painting, half a million.”

“All of them from an anonymous source. They’re stealing them back in China and one by one they’re feeding them into Britain.” Minyard said.

Neil took out the diary from Brian Lukis and went to a couple pages near the end. “And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China.” He noted.

“So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?” Minyard chimed.

“That’s why Zhi Zhu came.” Neil concluded. A knock came at the door and Betsy walked in, greeting the boys.

“Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Andrew?” She asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“A fine young woman is outside with crates of books.” She said and Neil looked to Minyard and then to Betsy.

Soon the boys let two uniformed police officers carry in another plastic crate to add to the many which had already been dumped in the living room. Neil almost stammered at how many books there were and why they were just being piled up in their house.

“So, the numbers are references.” Minyard said.

“To books?”

“To specific pages and specific words on those pages.”

“Right, of course.” Neil decided to go along with it. “So fifteen and one. That means?”

Minyard looked at the books, inspecting them. “Turn to page fifteen and it’s the first word you read.”

“Okay. So what’s the message?”

“Depends on the book.” To this Neil looked at the piles in front of him, some labeled Van Coon, the rest were Lukis. “That’s the cunning of the book code. Has to be one that they both owned.”

“Okay, right. Well, this shouldn’t take too long, should it?” Neil sighed and flopped down in front of a crate, beginning to reach for as much books as he could. Wilds came in shortly after, holding up an evidence bag and gave it to Andrew.

“We found these, at the museum.” She said. All it contained were the photographs of the cipher codes in which Minyard had shown to Soo Lin. They must of forgot it back at the museum.

“Oh those. Don’t suspect us, Wilds.” Minuard teased.

Neil narrowed his eyes at the blond, then looked sympathetically to Wilds. “We hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us.” Wilds glanced at them both in relief and nodded, turning back to an unloading his crate.

“Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?” She asked.

“Silence would be great.” Minyard said and Neil apologised for his behalf, telling Wilds they were fine and they could talk later on.

She soon left, wishing them both good luck, and with that the two boys began to find books that the two victims had in common.

A little while after, Minyard made a pleasing sound when he found a book that Van Coon and Lukis shared. Opening one of the books, to page fifteen, he looked at the first word and looked more or less disappointed. “Cigarette.” He said. Slamming the book closed, he put both versions on top of the pile on the desk that they started to accumulate. They both got back to rummaging through crates while Neil put his pile onto the floor and crossed the room to get more books. Time moved on and later Minyard found two more identical books. He flicked to page fifteen on one of them, which was the beginning of a chapter headed “ _What Do Schoolteachers and Sumo Wrestlers Have in Common_?”. Moving down to the first word of the chapter, he read it and then looked up in frustration.

“Imagine.” He said aloud.

Again, he dumped the two books on Neil’s pile. More time moved on, and they practically spent all night looking for books and words and wills to live. Books scattered everywhere, over the table and the floor and it was all a disorganised mess. As Neil ran his fingers through his hair, he looked around at the books and sighed, then an alarm went off on his phone. Boyd wanted to meet up. Neil guessed he could have a little break from their findings and Minyard would be okay on his own for a while. So he told his friend he was going, and Minyard didn’t seem to care, trusting Neil enough by now. The only comment being made, was Minyard telling him that this outing better not be Neil's attempt to leave forever, let alone leave the job at hand with all the books. Neil almost laughed and went off to where Boyd wanted to meet, thinking of that phrase and what it actually meant.

 

 

Boyd met Neil at a small coffee shop near the apartment. It wasn’t too far, so he could walk there easily enough. And by 'too far', Neil meant right next door. The boys literally lived next to a coffee shop. It's how they have breakfast every morning.

Now, Neil had many thoughts about Boyd. He was a cheerful guy, he greeted Neil with the widest of grins he’d ever seen and always seemed to stay in a positive aura, never seeming sad or angry which wasn’t as discomforting Neil as he thought it would. He looked like the kind of friend Neil never expected to have, nor like. But Neil liked it.

“My man, Josten. Good to see you. How have you been?” Boyd said, and walked with him inside the shop.

“Doing a case.” He replied, and looked up at Boyd. He was pretty tall and Neil had to crane his neck to see his friend. He hated being short, and Minyard probably had the worst of it. “How’s work?”

“Pretty great, mainly drug busts and stuff, nothing like you all are doing. No dead bodies but the two recent ones. I've been tagging along with Gordon, or Wilds depending on the case. Sometimes Wymack, however that gets weird after a while.” Boyd laughed. “I get bored with forensic duties that I hang with Renee and her corpses. Not much sleuthing as one would say.”

Neil hummed and they both ordered their food. When he went out to take some change from his pocket to pay, Boyd insisted he could cover it. With a lot of persisting, he eventually did. They sat down at a table near the window and enjoyed each other’s company.

“So heard you met Dan.”

“Wilds? Yeah, she’s nice. I mean, she does her job well, that I know.”

“She’s amazing once you get to know her. Also heard she got convinced to invite you to the wedding. I was thrilled when I heard.”

“Yeah, I was confused to why you wanted me to go anyways, you hardly know me for one.”

Boyd laughed. “I’ve known you for a month or so, and that can count us as friends. And you are with Andrew, so a friend of his, is a friend of mine. Therefore, you will automatically be invited to our grande day.” He said.

With a pleasant hum, there was something Neil had to ask Boyd by that. “Minyard told me about how you guys became friends. In the past. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“The drugs? Not anymore, I haven’t touched any since that day. It’s his way of showing he cares. In the weirdest and brutal way possible, sure, but Andrew isn’t exactly a ‘think before you do anything’ type of guy. He meant well and I forgave him, I just made him promise to never do it again. After that, we bonded a bit and have a somewhat understanding.” He said. Neil heard that saying a lot. Understanding. What was it for Andrew to understand someone? To be close to someone so that they could trust one another in turn. Is he in that area with his coworker? His roommate? His… whatever relationship they have? Neil didn't think they had an _understanding_ , but he felt trust between each other. “Oh, that reminds me. Me and Dan are going out tonight. You are welcome to come with him if you want.” Boyd looked to Neil with a pleaded smile.

“To what?” Neil asked, hesitantly.

“A date. It would be like a double date, I guess. We are thinking about going to somewere tonight, don’t know where but someplace fun. Want to join? We’ll text you the time and location.”

Neil didn't know what a double date was but, “Uh, sure. I’ll ask Minyard.” Neil said and wondered why Boyd would want him to intrude his date by bringing along him and Andrew.

“Great! So, speaking of which, do tell me the details on how’s life in the Andrew Household.” Boyd grinned.

“The Andrew Household?”

“Yeah, I mean you live together, right?”

“I guess. There’s nothing to it that you don’t already know of. What are you trying to imply?”

“You know... this and that.”

Neil still looked confused. Boyd sighed. “Andrew hasn’t had someone he was close with for a long time. And _I_ barely count because he only sees me as a mutual, and not as a friend. Never been to his place 'just to hang'. Yet even with that being said, I will make that bastard my bestie if it’s the last thing I do. But in all honesty, he hasn’t had anybody by his side, nor working with him, _ever_. I’m happy you both found each other.”

“Uh, thanks I guess?” Neil said more of a question than a statement. “What’s this got to do with anything? Me and Minyard live together and solve shit together. It’s simple and we like it that way.”

Boyd seemed like he wanted to say more on the matter, that something was itching at his brain. Yet it faded away and he let Neil be, only for Neil to want to know what he was thinking in that instant.

“So. Tell me about the case you are working on.” Boyd said instead.

And Neil did. He explained about the murders they found, from the Bank with Sebastian all the way to the books they sorted through over the night. He talked about meeting Wilds, about Soo Lin and the discoveries he found. Boyd seemed interested in anything he had to say, and Neil found that he was rather growing fond of Boyd himself. He now knew what everyone meant by understanding one another, Neil guessed it could be the same with Boyd and himself. An emotion overthrew Neil as the two chatted, he was glad. He was glad there was a relationship to grow with Boyd, that he had met someone in exception to Minyard who could make him smile. He shouldn’t be, but he was happy. Neil’s mother would kill him if she ever found out how he stayed, how he grew relationships with people.

Yet this could all be a fantasy, that someone would come for Neil eventually. But maybe he could stay. Maybe for once, Neil didn’t want to run away.

 

 

Andrew was getting frustrated by the minute. A book that everybody would own. All of these words are getting nowhere. Pumpkin. Cars. Abortion. Jesus. Add. Nostrils. He put away all the books he thought everyone would own, sighing as none of them had anything interesting for the case. The Oxford English Dictionary, the Holy Bible just for the sake of it as well, an Encyclopedia on everything human. People all owned those, right? Just how the fuck is he supposed to figure this out?

“Fifteen. Entry one.” He repeated to himself for the hundredth time today. Josten was right, he needed sleep. They practically stayed up all night, and it was mid-day already. Well, they did fall asleep on a pile of books for a couple hours, but were back at it in the early morning.

As he closed yet another book, Josten came into the room and plopped down onto the couch, stifling a yawn. He seemed tired as well, to this Andrew couldn’t blame him.

“Sleep.” Andrew told him, throwing a blanket his way. He used it last night and probably didn't need it anytime soon. Josten wanted to oppose but Andrew beat him to it. “You look tired as hell, bet you woke up earlier than I did. So go to bed and fucking sleep.”

“You need rest as well.”

“Then I’ll rest.”

Josten frowned. “I’m serious.”

“And am I not?” Andrew said, and put down the book he was holding. It had useless information, wasn't the book he needed and at this point Andrew was beginning to get angry. He needed to rest and if Josten would, then so would he. “Once I wake up, we’re going out. Specifically tonight.”

“Actually, we are anyways. Dan and Matt invited us over someplace, they don’t know where yet but they said they’d text me. What do you say?”

Andrew frowned. "Why should I?"

"Because you can be a decent human being for once and it will give us a break from the case." Neil shrugged.

"Whatever. In condition you fucking sleep because by the looks of it, you need it.” Andrew said and started walking towards his room, resting into bed immediately. Not thinking about how this was probably Boyd’s idea for their plans tonight, and Andrew knew exactly what he was doing.

So he gave him a little call on the whole idea because there's only one way he can make this benefit on his behalf.

 

 

Neil woke up shortly before it went dark, and Minyard was of course, awake. Watching TV as if waiting for Neil, he seemed rather ready to go out. He wore a fancy shirt and pants, as if he was going out to a club.

And then there was Neil, who decided to wear nothing but a sweater and jeans.

To give him credit, they were the items Minyard got him in an earlier trip to the clothing store. So they were somewhat special.

They left the house when both the boys were prepared, shrugging on their coats and getting into the car. Soon enough, they met up with Wilds and Boyd near a large building. Boyd grinned when he saw the two, and Wilds nodded at the both of them in welcome. He had texted Neil about a place he found was cool, a circus downtown.

“It’s been years since I went to a circus.” Boyd complied and Wilds grinned at him.

“I heard it was rather good and today was the only day it would appear in London. Don’t know much about it, however.” She said. They all entered the sketchy building, and a number of large red Chinese lanterns were strung outside the hallway along with lights and a few people scattered around. Neil had a rather odd feeling about the place.

“I think they’re probably from China.” Boyd whispered to them.

“You don’t say.” Minyard lifted a brow and Neil rolled his eyes.

“Behave you two.” Dan said. “I don't want this night to end up with us scolding you like parents instead of us hanging out as friends.”

“They can’t both be our children, Dan. Incest. I say Neil should be ours, and Andrew the child-in-law.” Boyd told her, and this time Minyard frowned. Neil wondered what about that made him so unhappy, did Minyard want to be their child? Why?

“We are not adopting Neil.” Dan said and Boyd pouted.

Neil furrowed his eyebrows, trying to glue things together. “I don’t understand-”

Minyard hovered a finger to Neil’s lips, not yet touching the male but inches away. “Shh, Neil. Let’s just walk away now and let the adults talk.” He said and dragged Neil away until they came to a booth where the manager seemed to be giving out the tickets. Finally, the other two caught up to them.

“Hi. We have four tickets reserved for tonight.” Wilds asked the manager.

“And what’s the name?”

“Wilds.” She said. The manager rifled through the reservations, then turned back to her with an envelope.

Inside the circus, there were a few steps of stairs where they could sit down and watch. Boyd and Wilds said they would get a few drinks for them all, and left with that. Minyard looked over to Neil who was seated next to him, gazing off into the dark stage.

“Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits, you know.” He said.

Neil looked confused then sighed. “You suggested this to Boyd, didn't you?”

“Fancy that, you’re using your brain. We’re looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place.” He said and Neil should have known.

“Fine. You do that, I’m gonna find Wilds and Boyd, help them out.” But they seemed to have appeared before he could get up, smiling and handing each of them some drinks. A Coca-Cola for Minyard, and water for Neil. Minyard didn’t say much after that, and watched the scene unfold on stage.

A circle of candles had been laid out in the middle of the floor, about thirty feet in diameter. The room was dimly lit and it had an eerie sense to it. Apparently the number of tickets has been limited and there was only room for everyone to sit around the circle with a clear view. Minyard seemed to be paying more attention to the walls and ceiling than the stage in front. Wilds and Boyd seemed stuck in their own conversation so Neil leaned closer to Minyard.

“When you mentioned circus to Boyd, I'm gathering you didn't tell him about why were are actually here and what this circus is really about.” Neil asked

“Well it’s not their day job.” Minyard slouched back in his seat.

“Oh yeah, I forgot.” Neil rolled his eyes. “They’re not a circus, they’re a gang of international smugglers.” The performance started just as he said that and someone tapped a rhythm on a tiny hand drum. Minyard quirked an eyebrow at Neil and an ornately costumed Chinese woman with a heavily painted face walked into the centre of the circle and looked imperiously out at the audience before raising a hand in the air.

The drummer finished his beats and the woman walked across the circle to a large object covered with a cloth. She pulled back the cloth to reveal an antique crossbow on a stand. She picked up a long thick wooden arrow, a vicious metal point as the tip, showing it to the audience before fitting it into place in the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulled a single small white feather from her headdress and again showed it to the audience. On the rear of the crossbow was a small metal cup, the woman gently dropping the feather into it. Instantly the arrow was released and threw across the room. Neil wondered how sensitive that crossbow could have been if the touch of a feather could set it off.

The arrow shot from the bow and onto a large painted board on the other side of the room, furthest away from all the people. Boyd turned to them all and laughed, dramatically putting his hands over his heart and pretending to faint. Dan hit him slightly on the arm. Neil was glad they both seemed amused as he was more worried than anything.

The drumming started up again, and the audience applauded as a new person entered the stage, wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask. Looking like he just came out of that Mulan movie - head to toe covered in armor, he held his arms out from where two men came over and started to attach heavy straps to chain him up. His arms were heavily secured around his waist, seeming as if he belonged in a mental asylum.  

“Classic Chinese escapology act.” Minyard said, sounding bored and rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. Boyd hummed in question. “The crossbow is on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires.” He explained in a sigh.

The woman loaded another arrow into the crossbow. The men attached the warrior against the board, securing him onto it and Neil would think it would be impossible to get out - and _he_ was the escapist here. The drummer began building in intensity. The woman picked up a small knife and displayed it to the audience.

“She splits the sandbag. The sand pours out. Gradually the weight lowers into the bowl.” Minyard said, seeming like he was sleeping on his seat and uninterested in the scene before him. Neil looked at the woman who did exactly as he said. She reached up to the small sandbag attached to a weight which would land on the bowl, launching the crossbow.

And so the woman stabbed the knife into it, and the sand slowly lowered the weight. In this time, the warrior had one hand free, and everyone seemed keen on finding out if he would escape the scenario or not. Another hand was free soon enough, and then he started pulling at his chains around his neck and waist. The weight being only a few feet above the bowl, the warrior managed to loosen the chains in a split second to spare. The weight touched the bowl, sending the arrow to the empty board. The warrior cried out triumphantly as the audience began to applaud loudly and a whooping was heard from both Wilds and Boyd. Neil seemed uninterested in the warrior man who was bowing from the crowd’s applause.

Neil turned to look over at Minyard, but he wasn’t in sight. He was about to ask Boyd if he saw where Minyard went but the applause ceased immediately and the painted woman spoke up for the first time. “Ladies and gentlemen,” She said with a thick accent. “From the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider.”

On stage, a masked acrobat descended from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the broad red band wrapped around his waist unraveled. The audience applauded as he did tricks in the air which mesmerised them all.

But Neil was only wondering where Minyard went.

 

 

Andrew made his way onto the backstage, which was being used as the performers' dressing room. He had no concern for the show itself, he just needed to know what happened behind closed curtains.

A dressing table with mirrors, weird feathery clothing and many other items were scattered around. Andrew looked at everything and noticed that the chainmail and mask from the warrior on stage were hanging on a stand.

Andrew went over to the curtains and parted them slightly to look out at the performance. He looked with disinterest at the acrobat as he floated around and spotted Josten in the crowd, frowning and looking around. He then closed the curtain and heard the backstage doors open.

Andrew took cover, pushing through the middle of the clothes on the clothing rail and quickly spread the items out again as the painted woman came into the room. He swore as feathers got into his view.

The woman went over to the dressing table and picked up a mobile phone, checking it, but putting it back down abruptly as one of the clothings hangers dropped to the floor next to Andrew's feet. He cursed under his breath once more. The woman walked closer to where he was, but left the room when she didn’t find anything. Andrew coughed when she left and spat out some feathers, looking displeased.

On the ground by where the woman was, Andrew saw a bag. Flipping it open, he found several spray cans inside. He picked up one of them and saw that it was labelled “Michigan.” The same as Raz had mentioned before, and to add on to it, the colour was a vibrant yellow. Andrew grinned at the findings.

As he prepared to leave, the warrior’s costume behind him started to move. Frowning, he turned around and realised that the costume was no longer on a stand but now had a man wearing it. Swearing, Andrew prepared himself for the man that charged forward, lashing out at him repeatedly with a large knife. Andrew ducked backwards to avoid the blow as the warrior pressed forward. He threw his own blow towards the warrior but the metal scraped against his knuckles and it stung like a bitch. He gritted through the pain as the warrior kneed him in the sides. Andrew took his own knife from his bands and kicked the warrior away, knifing the weaker spots covered less by armor, pleased to hear the man wince.

Andrew grabbed the warrior by the throat as he dropped his knife in the process. The warrior man snarled and kicked Andrew hard enough to loosen his grip, so Andrew sprayed the yellow paint in his face quickly enough before the warrior could attack again. It wasn’t enough. The warrior tried to grab onto Andrew and pushed him into the curtain where they fell onstage. Many gasps were heard and Andrew hissed as his head hit the flooring. A knife was inches away from plummeting into Andrew’s chest before the warrior was shoved off him and crashed onto his sides. Josten was standing over Andrew, looking furious. The warrior stood back up and immediatly punched Josten right in the face, sending him stumbling onto the floor. Andrew frowned and got to his feet in time to throw one at the warrior himself, who crashed to the ground.

Nearby, the audience fled. The acrobat took off his mask with one look at the fight, and decided he wanted no part of it, running off. Only two other people were heading towards the fight, the two being Boyd and Wilds. Boyd pulled the large arrow from the painted board and came charging across the hall while Josten was still stumbling across the floor trying to catch his balance, blood dripping from his nose. Wilds tried to help him up, but Josten didn’t let her.

The warrior headed towards Andrew who was too distracted with Josten to realise he was rushing to him. As the man raised the sword above his head, his concentration focused on delivering the killing blow to Andrew who was ready to fight, but Boyd came racing in and slammed one end of the arrow over the top of the warrior’s head, hitting him hard enough to fall, but not maiming enough to kill. He was about to lash out on Boyd before Andrew kicked him down, and the warrior instantly fell the to ground, grunting and seeming to falter in action.

As Andrew straightened up, breathless, Josten finally came round near Andrew who leaned forward to the warrior’s right foot, pulling off his shoe to reveal a flower tattoo on his heel.

“We have to go.” Josten said and everyone agreed. Wilds was by Boyd’s side, and Andrew had the urge to clean the blood from Josten’s face, not even caring about his own.

However he let it be, and escaped the circus once and for all.

 

 

The office was quiet at night and Wilds sighed at her desk. “I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted right about now.”

“Look, we all saw the mark at the circus. That tattoo on the other two bodies, the mark of the Tong.” Andrew said as Wilds nodded.

“Lukis and Van Coon were part of a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole something when they were in China, something valuable.” Josten said, cleaned up from his mess. A large bruises was still there, a couple stitches here and there but it blended in with the other smaller ones from their first encounter. Andrew wasn't bad himself, he just had a nasty one on his side and abdomen, a couple stitches to his head when the warrior threw the first punch which sent him to the ground but nothing serious.

“These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back.” Andrew said, resting his hand against his stitched head.

“Get what back?” Boyd asked.

Josten bit his lip. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” Wilds said. “Great, how will we get to them now. The circus is over and they will recognize our faces.” She winced. “I’ve done everything you asked. Wymack seems to think your advice is worth something. But this, we can’t have this. You can’t go fighting with someone over a case.”

“In fairplay, they started it.” Andrew shrugged, grinning as Wilds sighed.

“Okay. I had given the order for a raid. Tell me I’ll have something to show for it – other than a massive bill for overtime and probably some scars and bruises for my workers.” She said.

“They’ll be back in China by tomorrow.” Boyd noted.

Andrew clicked his tongue. “No, they won’t leave without what they came for. We need to find their hideout, the rendez-vous.”

Josten grabbed the files over Wilds’ desk, looking through each photo, running his fingers over the main picture of the painted brick wall filled with the Chinese numbers.

“Somewhere in this message, it should tell us.” He said

“Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?” Boyd asked and got up from his chair, trying to lighten the mood between them all. Wilds smiled his way and Andrew nodded. “I’ll go to the takeout place that’s close by. Neil, want to help?” He looked towards the younger male who quickly turned Boyd’s way with a tilt of his head. The look Boyd gave him was desperate, so Neil sighed and got up with him as they both left, leaving Andrew and Wilds alone.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Wilds then asked Andrew.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Towards Boyd, Josten, everyone. Are their lives on the line?”

“I made a promise, of course they’ll be fine.”

Wilds hummed. “Better be. I don’t want anybody coming to me saying one of yours is extremely hurt or dead. We may be detectives but we aren’t going to jeopardize anybody's safety for a case.”

“It’s a cruel world, Wilds.” Andrew interjected, and fiddled with a stapler on her desk.

“That doesn’t mean you have to run into trouble.”

“Then who’s job is it to stop all of this?”

“People who know what they are doing.” She countered.

“And that isn’t me?”

Wilds looked irritated. “You don’t get a slip card just because you come from a bad family. We all do, that’s why Wymack let us be here today. Nobody knows cruelty more than those who have suffered through it.”

“I raise my point. I don’t need you to tell me what to do when you aren’t my authority figure here. You work here, get paid and do your job. I do this for the fun of it.” Andrew challenged.

“That doesn’t mean you-”

“Hush now Wilds, I won’t contest to your demands, but I’ll be more cautious.” He grinned, knowing well that he will continue his ways. “My behavior doesn’t change the way you do your job, nor does it affect it.”

“You are still a friend, Andrew. To me, to Boyd, to Josten. And I only say this because we care.”

Andrew huffed. “I don’t have friends.”

Wilds gave Andrew a worried look. “That doesn’t mean we stop treating you like one. We think of you as a friend, it may not be mutual but you are still one of us.”

“Stop with this sappy shit, I don’t believe in family.”

“Is that why you abandoned your brother.” Wilds argued and Andrew gave her a murderous look. She knew where to hit hard and that wasn’t soothing Andrew.

“I didn’t abandon him. He left, our deal was finished.” He snarled and leaned closer to her as a warning. “Now, you best leave it there. This is not your conversation, not your business and surely nothing you would understand. Don’t want to make me angry now, do you?”

She stared at Andrew, who returned the challenge. Sooner or later, she sighed and leaned back on her chair, giving up on the shorter male. There was quiet between them for a while.

Wilds didn’t press onto anything more, and gathered the photos Josten left behind. “What are the squiggles for?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at what she meant, until his gaze went towards the photos and his face fell. “They’re numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect.” He said, blankly.

“Well I know that bit. But what are they for?” She asked, picking up the photo. “These numbers, they're a cipher. And each pair of numbers is a word.”

To this, Andrew raised an eyebrow. “How did you know that?”

Wilds gave a smug look. “Well, two words have already been translated, here.” She put the picture down on the desk and showed it to Andrew. Andrew just stared at her and realisation shook him. Something they didn’t see before, something that was overlooked.

During this time, Boyd and Josten appeared with Indian food and all four individuals didn’t talk about the case, or what happened for the rest of the night. Only dissolving into small chatter and conversation about any other topic. About Boyd’s parents and how they were moving, to his wedding plans and the new film he recently saw (which somehow ended up with banters from all except Josten, clueless to the matter).

Later on in the night, Boyd left with Wilds back to their apartment. Andrew turned to Josten when they exited the office and showed him the picture Wilds’ pointed out before.

“Look at it. Closely.” He said and Josten did so, but appeared to not get what he was referring to. “Soo Lin at the museum, she started to translate the code for us. We didn’t see it.” Andrew added. Written in fine pen, a word was written across each of the first two sets of symbols on the photograph.

“Eleven.” He said pointing at one of the letters. “And mill.” He said about the other.

Josten squinted at the photo. “Million?”

Andrew nodded.  “Eleven million, yes. But for what? We need to know the end of this sentence.” He said as they came round to Andrew's car, getting inside.

Josten went into the passenger’s seat and buckled up. “So where are you going then?” He said, noticing that the car wasn’t heading to their apartment. Andrew grinned at the observation.

“To the museum, to the restoration room. And all this because we had been staring right at it without even knowing it.” He mused.

Josten looked interested. “At what?

"The book, Josten. The book – the key to cracking the cipher. Soo Lin used it to do this. Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he parked infront of the museum.

Apparently Andrew was rushing too much and bumped into a man and woman who were walking along the road. Obviously tourists - they were consulting the London A-Z and looking around, pointing everywhere they went. The book fell from the man’s hand, and the man cursed in German. Andrew raised an eyebrow. 

“Hey, you! Why don’t you look where you’re going?” He said, picking up the book.

“Sorry.” Andrew replied in German, sounding a lot more sarcastic than genuine.

“Yeah, thanks.” The man said in more or less the same tone. He turned away, putting his arm around his wife and started to bicker with her over London, mumbling, “And they say the English are polite.”

Josten snickered and started to walk towards the museum. There was something twitching at Andrew’s brain about the tourist, but he followed Josten either way. That was until he saw an Asian family, looking around and consulting a book - another London A-Z guide. Andrew’s eyebrows raised. “A book that everybody would own.” He muttered and Josten stopped to look back at his friend. A guide to the city. Andrew huffed, it was that easy.

Before he knew it, Andrew was running towards the angry German couple and told them to stop where they were going. The older man turned towards the blond.

“What does he want?” He groaned. Andrew didn’t answer and grabbed the A-Z from the man’s hands and turned away, looking down at the book.

“Hey, you fuck! What are you doing?” The man snarled in German and Andrew held up a finger.

“Shut up.”

“Give me back my book.”

Ignoring him, Andrew turned his back on the couple again and opened the book. Cursing with every word he spoke, Andrew realised that the man gave up and started walking away with his wife, leaving Andrew to the book alone. Josten came up to him and tilted his head. 

Page fifteen, entry one. Page fifteen, entry one. Andrew turned to the correct page and looked at the index page. It read:  _Deadman’s Lane NW9_. Deadman was the first word. It was a threat. That was what the code on the portrait said, and the library shelf.

The next codes being thirty seven, eleven, Andrew went to the page and it read: _Fore St EC2. For._

“Eleven mill. For. But for what?” He muttered to himself. Sixty, thirty-five was next. On the relevant page, the appropriate entry reads: _Jade Cl. E16._  
Jade. Jade. Andrew went through all the ciphers until he turned the page for the final word. Finding the correct entry, it said:  _Tramway._

“Deadman. Eleven Mill For Jade Pin Dragon Den Black Tramway.” He said and his eyes grew wide.

They found it.

 

 

Neil waited for Andrew to be done his conversation with the angry people, as he stood leaning on the wall in front of the building. Boyd was by his side, eating a granola bar and talking about the pets he wanted to get.

Eventually, someone came up to them to ask for directions. He had a hoodie pulled up over his head and wore a dark coat. Boyd complied and told him the way he wanted to go but once the directions were clear, the man didn’t move.

“Do you have it?” The man turned to Neil who furrowed his eyebrow.

“What?” He asked.

“Do you have the treasure?” The man asked.

Boyd looked between them with a confused look. “What do you mean? If you're looking for the architectural treasure museum, it's here, man.”

The man didn’t respond, and simply bashed Boyd’s head with the head of a pistol as the taller male went down. Josten widened his eyes in shock and reached out for the man but someone behind him wrapped a cloth around his mouth and kept him still. As much as Neil tried to resist it, black spots entered his view and he fell down besides Boyd into unconsciousness. 

 

 

Andrew didn’t see Boyd or Josten when he came back to the front of the building, and that somewhat worried him. They couldn’t have gone in and Josten wouldn’t go too far away from Andrew without reason or telling him.

That was until he stopped mid track and gazed at the wall in front of him. He stared in shock at seeing the yellow paint sprayed across it. It spelled out the same words, the same as the portrait, the same as the library shelf.

 _Deadman_ , was all that it had said.

 

 

Neil regained consciousness upon sitting on a chair somewhere in a dark place. It wasn’t a room, but Neil didn’t really know where he was. The only light was coming from a fire burning in a garbage bin behind him. He slowly raised his head. The wounds from his temple were probably split open as he felt hot blood drip on his face. He grimaced in pain, it wasn’t the worst he’d even been in but he felt like he just jumped out of a moving truck.

A woman came in front of his view and Neil recognised her as the same woman who ran the circus. She looked rather familiar, not from the circus but from somewhere else.

That's when it hit Neil.

The photographer. She was the photographer.

“A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket.” She spoke and Neil winced as she grabbed his cheeks in her hand, squeezing them together. She observed him for a while before letting go.

Neil turned his head to the left and saw Boyd sitting on another chair with a gag in his mouth. He looked round to him, and they both had mixed reactions. In between wondering what the hell was going on and how the fuck do they get out of this. The woman walked towards him and Neil had a clear view of where they were, somewhere in a tunnel it seemed. An old metro? Abandoned maybe?

“We need the treasure, Nathaniel.” She said and Neil widened his eyes. How did she possibly know his name? Who the fuck were these people? He tried to tell himself there was no time to panic, but oh boy was he panicking already. Nathaniel was a name only a few people knew. Andrew, the FBI and the men after him. Oh fuck, Neil may have been in a little bit of a tussle here. “As we had no possible way to get Mr. Minyard in our hands, we recently heard the son of the Butcher had escaped. What a price you would be.” She smiled maniacally. Neil wanted to spit on her face. “Andrew Minyard will come, and he will give me what I want.”

“And you can go fuck yourself.”

She ignored his comment, probably for the best. “I am Shan.” She said and Neil furrowed his eyebrows.

“You’re Shan?” He asked. The general, the one who ran the organization and the black market. What a great first meeting, he honestly expected more.

“Three times we tried to kill Mr. Minyard. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?” She asked and grabbed a gun from her side, cocking it in place. There was a man next to Shan and she aimed the gun at him, shooting instantly. Neil heard Boyd gasp under the gag and Neil narrowed his eyes at the woman, remembering all the times his father had tortured and killed innocent men. He guessed this man wasn’t so innocent to begin with, but he was a person. Wait- three times? _When_? “It tells you that they’re not really trying.” She shrugged, cocking the gun again. “If we wanted to kill you, Nathaniel, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive.” She said and Neil looked to her sternly. “Do you have it?”

“Do I have what?” He asked, not sure what they meant. They kept on saying he had it, but Neil had nothing that they didn’t need or want.

“The treasure.” She said and Neil furrowed his eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I would prefer to make certain.” She said and clicked her fingers as another man brought over a large object covered in a white cloth. They pulled off the sheet to reveal the crossbow which was used at the circus. An arrow was already loaded in it. Neil stared at it and sighed deeply. Shan turned back to him with a grin. “Everything in the West has its price. And the price for his life-” She pointed towards Boyd. “Is the treasure information. I don't get that, he dies and I sell you off to the Butcher's circle myself.”  

The same two men walked over and picked up Boyd’s chair. He looked confused and tried to say something through the gag as they carried him towards the crossbow.  
Neil tried to get out of the chair but he was strapped in and couldn’t move.

The men laid down the chair on the other side of the crossbow, leaving Boyd directly in line with the arrow tip. He stared at it, tugging at the ropes tying him to the chair. Shan glared down at Neil once again.

“Where’s the hairpin?”

Neil was getting quite angry with the lady. “What fucking hairpin?”

“The Empress pin valued at eleven million. We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London. You and Mr. Minyard have been searching for it.”

“We haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for.” He snarled.

“I need a volunteer from the audience!” She shouted aloud for only Neil, Boyd and a few other men to hear. This, Neil thought, was crazy. She was crazy. Her eyes flickered to Boyd and she grinned. “Ah, thank you, young man. Yes, you’ll do very nicely.”

Boyd looked rather calm for his situation and just rolled his eyes, muttering something under the gag. Shan smiled, taking out a knife and reached up to a nearby sandbag suspended over a pulley hanging from the ceiling. Neil recognised what she was about to do and wished he had the ability to stop her. She stabbed the knife into the bag and sand began to pour out. Boyd realised in shock what this meant, and tried to thrash out of his seat.

Throughout all this, Shan smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure of Nathaniel’s handsome companion in a death defying act. If he doesn’t give himself and the treasure up to me now, then he shall be no more!” Shan walked over to Boyd and placed a black origami lotus flower on his lap. Boyd tried to blow it off with no avail.

“You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.” She whispered into his ear.

Then continuing over to Neil, she tilted his head with the tip of her pistol, still smiling wildly.

“You know, I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Minyard said and Neil looked behind Shan to see Minyard standing there, smiling. It wasn’t genuine and held a ferocity to it. Shan span around so fast and raised her pistol, aimed towards Minyard. One of Shan’s thugs started to run towards Minyard, but he punched him hard enough that when he fell, he didn’t come back up. He whipped out his knife with the second thug and the man groaned in pain, falling down. Minyard knew not to kill them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt them. Shan was about to shoot towards Minyard but he clicked his tongue. “You know that’s a semi automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand metres per second.” He noted.

“So?”

Minyard laughed. “So,” He grabbed a metal pipe and flung it towards the last thug who then collapsed on the ground. All down within seconds. “The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you.”

Minyard threw the metal pipe towards her, knocking the gun out of her hands with the sharp blow. Before she could pick it up, Minyard kicked the crossbow so it shifted positions, twisting slightly to the left just as the sand connected with the bowl. The arrow was released and flied across the tunnel, burying itself in Shan’s stomach. She grunted, face filled with shock, slowly toppling to the floor. Minyard huffed and went to untie Boyd and Neil. Boyd took off his gag and swore loudly.

“You didn’t have to kill her, Andrew.” Neil said, looking down at Shan’s deceased corpse.

“She knew your name and could bring bad new onto me. Where’s my thank you?”

“What about the unconscious dudes?”

“Too numb minded to remember you.” He shrugged. “Won’t dare say anything after seeing Shan like that. Are you okay? Did she harm you?” He looked over Neil seriously.

“I’m fine.” Minyard didn’t like the answer apparently, because he flicked Neil’s forehead.

“Junkie.”

“Do tell me next time when we are going to be kidnapped so I can at least bring a pillow. Those chairs were uncomfortable.” Boyd said.

Neil was just glad Boyd and Minyard were okay. 

 

 

The police had arrived to clear up the mess. Wilds was waiting beside a police car just outside the tunnel as she put her arm around Boyd’s shoulders, the shock blanket covering him. Fucking shock blankets.

“You’ll get a slip off today. No need to mention you in the report.” She said to Minyard, looking rather irritated by the whole ordeal. “But I warned you about this, you said they wouldn’t be in harm’s way.”

“And I fulfilled my word. They are protected now, aren’t they?” Minyard retaliated. Neil sighed and Boyd didn’t stop glancing towards him.

“Could you give us a minute?” He asked his fiancee who looked unsure for a moment, but went off after kissing his forehead once more.

“I’m guessing you already knew.” Boyd laughed at Minyard, then raised an eyebrow at Neil. “So when were you going to tell me?” He meant Neil's name, where he was from. Boyd was a smart man and would put two and two together. Shan wanted to offer him up to some of the Butcher's inner circle, calling Neil by Nathaniel and since Boyd worked at a detective agency; he was sure to have heard about the Wesninski case at some point or another. He just didn't know it would have been found out this way.

“Conversation topic never really showed up. It’s not something I really want to tell a lot of people.” Neil looked away and Boyd smiled.

“Must not be. You can trust me, you know. I’m okay with it. Now I see why Minyard is so overprotective - well one of the reasons.” He smirked and Minyard seemed rather interested with the police cars nearby. “I’ll keep your secret. So, do you want me to keep on calling you Neil Josten?”

“I would rather stay Neil Josten for as long as I can.” Neil admitted and Boyd seemed proud with the answer. He then walked away, towards Wilds it seemed and covered her in kisses.

Minyard motioned for Neil to come with him, towards their car, and drove back to the apartment. All while Neil slept on the way back there.

 

 

In the kitchen, Neil was sitting at the table, while Minyard stood next to him, pouring them both a cup of coffee. It was midnight or so, and they just wanted to rest from the case they had just solved. It took a lot out of them.

Neil panicked at one point, wondering if one of Shan’s goons were going to come for him, if they would wake up, remember his face and take him back to his father's men. Minyard calmed him down and assured Neil he was safe under his protection and they wouldn’t take him anywhere. That he was Neil Josten and he wouldn’t run anymore.

It was quiet after that, as they both drank their coffee and sat in front of each other on the table. It wasn’t awkward, more calming and comforting. A nice feeling. Neil wondered why he felt this way towards Minyard, as he never did with anybody. It was usually never trust - just run and use people as pawns to get into the next country. This time he was doing every opposite thing he was raised up to do. He trusted someone, he didn’t run, he stayed even when there was a threat in his face. His mother would of beaten for this, but Neil didn’t care anymore.

“So, Eleven mill.” He said.

Minyard sipped his coffee. “Million.” He corrected.

“Million.” Neil repeated. “Eleven million for a jade pin. I get that part. But the Dragon den, black Tramway?”

“An instruction to all their London operatives.” Neil hummed with the information. “A message, what they were trying to reclaim.”

“So it was a jade pin?” He asked and Minyard nodded.

“Worth eleven million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout.” Minyard raised an eyebrow.

Neil furrowed his own. “But a hairpin? Worth eleven million pounds?”

Minyard shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Why so much?”

“Depends who owned it.”

They both stared at each other, smiling. Minyard seemed like he had a plan for the next morning. He always had a plan, and whatever it was, Neil would be with him. Besides him and follow him until the end. Though before he could do any of that, he needed sleep.

 

 

The next morning, the two boys woke up and drove over the Sanderson Bank, opening the front doors of the highly secured front reception room.

“Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something: a little hairpin.” Andrew said as he let Josten in before himself.

“Worth eleven million pounds.” Josten said, sarcastically. Neither could believe a pin could value so much.

“Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China.” Andrew concluded and Josten raised an eyebrow.

“How do you know it was Van Coon, not Lukis? Even the killer didn’t know that.”

“Because of the soap.” Andrew said like it was the biggest discovery of the world and looked round smugly at Josten, who stopped and smiled.

Upstairs, Van Coon’s assistant. Amanda, was sitting at her desk. She rubbed a bit of hand lotion from the bottle on her desk onto her hands as Andrew and Josten entered her office.

“Oh. Hello.” She said blankly at the two.

“You weren’t just his P.A., were you?” Andrew said as he tapped his fingers onto her desk.

“Someone’s been gossiping.” She said, sounding offended as if someone had personally told Andrew about her affairs. Andrew thought he heard Josten snicker a little bit.

“No.” He said.

“Then I don’t understand. How-”

“Scented hand soap in his apartment.” Andrew said. “Three hundred milliliters of it. Bottle almost finished.”

“Sorry?” Amanda asked, sounding confused.

“I don’t think Eddie Van Coon was the type of guy to buy himself hand soap – not unless he had a lady coming over. And it’s the same brand as that hand cream there on your desk.” He said. Amanda momentarily looked down awkwardly at the hand cream.

“Look, it wasn’t serious between us. It was over in a flash. It couldn’t last – he was my boss.” She tried to defend herself.

“What happened? Why did you end it?”

Amanda sighed dramatically. “I thought he didn’t appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often – we’d plan to go away for the weekend and then he’d just leave, fly off to China at a moment’s notice.”

“And he brought you a present from abroad to say sorry.” Josten clarified and his gaze was focused on a small green jade hairpin in her hair.

“Can I just have a look at it?” Andrew asked. Amanda sighed and held her hair in place with one hand while she took out the pin with the other.

“Said he bought it in a street market.” She rolled her eyes and placed the pin into Andrew’s hands.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I think he stole it.”

Amanda chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, that’s Eddie.”

“Guess he didn’t know its value, just thought it would suit you.” Andrew sounded apathetic but a small bit of humour was heard in the way he said it.

“Oh? What’s it worth?” She asked, interested. Andrew smirked and looked to Josten.

“Only eleven million pounds.” Josten said and Amanda’s face filled with shock.

“Oh my fucking God.” She said, stumbling to her feet and staggered backwards as the boys watched her.

“Oh my G-” She said again, bursting out of her office and running away screaming, “Eleven million!”, on the way out.

Sebastian was seen on the other side, frowning a disapproved look towards Andrew and Josten.

With that all solved, both boys carried on their way home, possibly to sleep for the next couple days. All in the safety of each other’s company. 

Perhaps Andrew even gave Sebastian the bird on the way out. While Josten gave him two. What an asshole Sebastian was. Last they'd be seeing of him, surely. As if they needed any more reminders of what the worst side of rich humanity looked like. Both boys were fine on their own, and especially with each other at their sides. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this is my least favourite case out of the series - but it’s important and plot relevant so I wrote it and tried to make it somewhat interesting. But because of the plot holes for the case; I made sure the andreil is Tight™, in regards to how unfilled the actual Sherlock episode is, and in forgiveness I give you said Andreil moments. What a deal! I hope you treasured them as they will be important for upcoming scenes~ 
> 
> Hope to update soon, and hopefully it won't take too long. Given the episodes themselves are about 90 minutes each, it may take quite some time. Especially since I started up classes again, and my job will take more shifts since fall has commenced. But worry not! I will continue and write as much as I can! Until next time, lovelies.


	3. Case 3: The Great Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 3 Season 1 of Sherlock  
> Content Warnings; Mentions of past childhood abuse and part of Andrew's past with Drake and Tilda. No graphical scenes though regarding those. Case deals with bombs, murders (obviously), violence, and the fucking spawn of devil himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to say there isn't much Matt nor Dan in this chapter! I'm devastated, I must make it up in the next chapter then. But there is someone else~ Or maybe some people. To those who have actually seen Sherlock, you all know who comes to visit Sherlock regarding this particular case? Hint, hint. And the ending? HINT, HINT. (I also tried to make it as canon as I could, for both atfg and Sherlock, so hence some ooc characters - as weird as that sounds.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“Two girls ate dinner together. They both ordered iced tea. One girl drank them very fast and had finished five in the time it took the other to drink just one. However, all of the drinks that were served turned out to contain poison. The girl who drank one died, while the other survived. Why did the girl who drank the most survive?” Neil smirked at Minyard, holding the newspaper article in hand which read:  _20 Hardest Detective Riddles_. It wasn’t that they were taking the piss out of it, nor that they were testing themselves on the riddles, but they both found it rather fun to do while waiting on another case for them to unravel. Also because they had nothing else to do, after recently solving the murder spree of General Shan over an eleven million pound pin, and one or a taxi driver serial killer who had the knack to tease his victims, it got boring. So hence why Neil and Minyard found themselves sprawled upon the floor and couch respectively, reading off apparently _hard_ questions.

Minyard huffed and threw a popcorn chip towards Neil’s forehead. “Easy, poison was in the ice.” He said.

“You didn’t even think about it.” Neil complained.

“I thought about it... when you were explaining it.” Minyard told him, resting his head on his hand.

“That’s all the questions in the article. You beat all of them, congratulations.” Neil rolled his eyes and put the article aside, lying down onto his back with a sigh. The floor felt cold pressed against his shirt. “Oh. What about that Russian case?” He suggested.

“Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time.” Minyard closed his eyes.

“What a shame.” Neil lifted his legs onto the arm chair in order to lean them somewhere. As Minyard was resting himself on the side nearest the arm chair, Neil wiggled his toes, inches away from Minyard’s fingers. The other male just stared at the toes and pushed Neil’s feet off, smugly.

“I’m starving.” Neil finally said. He wasn't just starving but bored, however he didn't need Minyard to know that or he'd argue about how needy Neil was being.

“Then starve.”

“As nice as ever I see.”

“When am I ever not nice?”

“I read a little about you. You are quite popular on the Internet it seems.” Neil said, remembering the question he tried to ask before. How Minyard would only approve of it if Neil had a better question. He did, because it involved detective work and a little sleuthing. “Who’s Aaron?”

“Is this you taking a turn?”  Minyard raised an eyebrow, not looking up at Neil from his phone.

“Yes.”

Minyard sighed. “My brother. Tilda - his mother - put both of us for adoption at first, ended up changing her mind later on. Chose only one of us to keep. So she chose him instead of me, a fifty-fifty chance, it was. I was raised up in an orphanage and foster homes until one day Aaron ended up finding a Pig. Pig thought Aaron was me, found out he had a twin at the same time I did. Hated each other ever since.”

“How'd that go? The aftermath?”

“That would make it three in a row.” Minyard told him and Neil almost forgot he owed him a truth from the last time.

“Ask them both then. Ask me something so we’re even.” Neil complied and Minyard stared up and down at him for a moment.

“So you’re father is a criminal, where does your mother fit into all this?” Minyard asked.

“I never knew why my mother could go for someone as terrible as him. It will always be a mystery to me and I can’t exactly ask her now. My father found us in Seattle and she was hit, bled internally. Said nothing until she couldn’t do anymore, and died when we fled through Oregon to California. Imagine that. She made me repeat every promise I ever made to her, before dying in our car from the damage.” Neil said. “I buried her in the sand after burning her body to the bone.”

“So she didn’t die when you were found?”

“She died about a year before that. My father found me again when I thought I had a place to stay - Millport, Arizona. Small town, few people. My mother would've beaten me if she found out I thought I could rest for a while, guess with my luck she was right after all. Thought I would be safer in London, so he followed me there from Arizona. It was my home country, you know? Butcher wouldn't ever have guessed I'd go there out of all places. Boy, was I fucking wrong.” Minyard stayed quiet for a while but then flicked Neil’s forehead.

“You have a place now, protection and a life you can preserve. So stay.” He said and Neil looked up at him. He usually wouldn’t think much of that statement, would probably never have believed it. And in all honesty, look at what happened to him the last time he tried to stay. This however was different. He had a purpose. So he smiled at Minyard who looked displeased by that, and showed him that he wouldn’t go anywhere just yet. Especially since he wanted to see if Minyard would ever stop eating all those sugary concoctions and Neil had to make sure he didn't die of diabetes.

“Thank you, Andrew.” He said and Andrew kicked him a little bit.

“Don’t say shit like that when there’s no meaning to it.”

“And what if I meant it?”

“Well then you need help. Bee’s nearby, I can ask her if she’s available for a session.”

“Asshole.” Neil muttered but there wasn’t anything cruel about the saying. And there probably never would be.

 

 

Andrew was well rested when he heard the thundering. He was slightly glad Josten was away to get them lunch nearby. 

However, it wasn’t regular thundering as it shook the whole room. Escalating quickly, Andrew had a slight feeling to what it was. Knew far too well what the rumbling could only mean.

Andrew was up faster than he ever was, and looked towards the window when the glass broke. Making it shatter glass everywhere and some debris from the wall. It did no harm to him, but it was unexpected to say the least. Blew him onto the ground with a thud.

There was a commotion outside. Andrew could hear it well from where he was. But it only resounded witu pain throbbing in his head. 

He looked to the broken window and wall. Debris had fallen from a couple stories up which meant the hit covered the whole front side. The wall was practically in ruins, good view from the bright outside. Andrew swore violently.

Fucking great.

 

 

Neil opened the doors to the morgue after he finished getting lunch. Minyard had said he could probably catch up with Walker whenever he had the time. Of course, Neil was wary about it. She unnerved him on some level, where he didn’t quite understand her meaning. Her manner, her way of speaking and just her whole aura made him a bit off guard. Yet he wanted to know about her, and especially her relationship with Minyard. Neil often heard Boyd and Wilds debate on whether or not they were a thing, Gordon just sneered and hoped to god that they weren’t because Minyard was ‘an asshole who didn't deserve anyone’, quote unquote. Which was ironic considering Gordon’s case.

But Neil wanted to figure things out for himself. He asked Minyard before if they were a thing, the blond simply shrugged him off and said if he was so curious he should ask Walker herself.

Which was why Neil told Minyard to tell Walker that he’d be there later in the afternoon. And why he was standing inside the room filled with apparent dead corpses under sheets of blankets and tools which looked far too familiar that Neil had to shake the feeling off somehow. So he played with the strings of his hoodie while watching Walker push a body inside a metal box indented inside the walls.

“Neil. Andrew told me you were coming. I didn’t believe him, and I should probably stop betting on him when it comes to you. May I ask what this special occasion is for?” Walker smiled up at him when she noticed his presence enter the room.

“Yeah, just wanted to catch up.” He said.

“That doesn’t seem like the case. You want something and I could probably give you the answers if you asked. I’m a simple person, yet I worry you, right?” Neil wanted to walk away, but he stayed and cleared his throat.

“Why does Andrew like you?”

She smiled. “He found out we both have a lot in common, an understanding.” Again with the understanding, Neil noticed. Nobody gave him a straight answer when it came to the ‘understanding’ type of topics. “You see, I am a bad person trying very hard to be a good one.”

And yet, that didn’t surprise Neil, he looked towards her with intent for her to continue. She did. “I grew up with my mother and her string of heavy-handed boyfriends. I started working as a lookout and runner for one of London’s gangs. It took me a couple years to work my way up and I did anything they asked me to and didn’t care who I hurt.” She said as Neil simply listened. “I was not as smart as I thought I was though. When I was fifteen the police caught me, and my lawyer traded my testimony for a reduced sentence. My words got a lot of of people in trouble, including my mother. My lawyer explained my home life so the court would understand my lack of positive role models. His findings sent both my mother and her lovers to prison on assorted charges. They were beaten to death by angry member of the gang I helped put away.”

“I’m sorry.” Neil said.

“I’m not.” Walker replied without remorse. “With my mother dead and my biological father somewhere I could care less about, the courts had no choice but to release me into foster care after a year at a juvenile facility. But me being me, I made life as difficult as I could for my foster families and jumped eight homes in two years. Stephanie Walker found out about me from one of my foster mothers at her high school reunion She put in a request for me, pushed until it was approved, and moved me here as soon as it was finalised. She gave me a name, a new faith and a new chance at life. Then later on, I graduated high school and stuck with what I knew best instead of hiding away my past. Used what I knew to my advantage. I became a Forensic Pathologist.” Walker finalised and Neil nodded.

“People have been telling me you're with Andrew. Some are against it, some say you both are secretly dating. What’s the real answer?” Neil blurted out, straight to the point. Walker looked kind of shocked he went there right away, but smiled nonetheless, happy to answer.

“Well for starters, I’m not Andrew’s type. It wouldn’t work out. Andrew told me if you came around to me, that's what I should tell you. So there you go.”

“I don’t understand. Is it because you both have different faiths? Or hopes? Or whatever you call it?”

“When I said I wasn’t Andrew’s type, I meant it. It’s not about my religion, or who I am. It’s because I’m a woman.” She said and then it clicked to Neil.

“Oh." He muttered. "Does anybody else know about it?”

“No. Just you and me.” Neil nodded. Walker’s phone buzzed right after and her face fell in shock. Neil wondered what it said. Renee apparently read his mind and said, “Andrew could be in trouble.”

 

 

Neil rushed back home when he heard the news and had to fight his way inside through the police investigation over the explosion that happened at 221B. Renee told him that something hit the front of the apartment building, while Minyard was still inside.

But when Neil finally came in after arguing with the officers that he did actually live here, he was greeted by Minyard leaning on his couch, safe and sound. Yet. There was another Minyard standing besides him. They seemed to be arguing. Or, well, couch-Minyard looked bored and standing-Minyard was scolding at the other. Neil was fucking confused.

“Aaron’s your twin.” He said to couch-Minyard, interrupting their session.

“I never said he wasn’t.” Minyard shrugged and Aaron Minyard looked towards Neil with a scowl.

“Who the fuck are you?” Aaron snarled and pointed to Neil.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Neil retaliated, knowing well that Minyard probably didn’t want his brother to be here judging by the look on his face. He remembered him saying they hated each other, which didn't bode well to this situation.

“To see my brother." Aaron told him with a snarl. "So let me rephrase; who the  _fuck_  are you?”

Neil ignored him and looked to Minyard. “You okay?” He asked, and looked to the wall which was covered in a sort of sheet - probably installed by the officers to cover the damage. It was breezy but it did the job well. Hiding everything from the outside.

“Quite. They’re saying it’s as gas leak, apparently.” Minyard told Neil then turned to Aaron. Neil could see that Minyard wasn’t so convinced of the fact. “Anyways, to answer your question: no.”

The twin looked displeased. “No?”

“The case I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time. I’m busy.” Minyard waved him off and Aaron swore under his breath, seeming exhausted by the other male.

“Never mind your useless facts. This is of national importance.”

“How’s the girl?” Minyard changed the topic.

Aaron scowled. “Fine.” He narrowed his eyes then looked towards Neil. “Perhaps you can get through to him, whatever your name is.”

“What?” Neil replied. Get what through Minyard?

“Andrew here is uncooperative.” Aaron rolled his eyes. That didn’t explain jack to Neil for why Aaron was here in the first place, or what he wanted out of his brother who denied him at every chance he got.

“If you’re so keen, why don’t you investigate it yourself?” Minyard told him and rested his feet on the stool in front of him, stretching out as if all of this was tiring to him. It was for both parties then, Neil agreed.

“No. I can’t possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so,” Aaron pointed a finger to Minyard - who in retaliation, didn’t look threatened, trailing off from what he was going to say. Neil raised an eyebrow at the twin. Aaron coughed. “Well, you don’t need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this, it requires mind work.”

Minyard seemed irritated by his brother, and turned to Neil, who was looking towards the wreckage. There were debris everywhere and Neil only wished he was there for Minyard when this happened. He could have been dead and Neil was off having a chat with Walker. As if Minyard could see through him, he asked, “How’s Renee, Josten?” Neil looked at him a bit too quickly.

“She’s doing fine. It was fine.” He said.

“Fine seems to be your favourite word.” He looked bored, but more interested than his deal with Aaron. Neil didn’t want to shove that in Aaron’s face, not at all. He also knew Minyard knew where the conversation probably left, to which Neil only vaguely dismissed. Minyard began leaning back on the sofa and went on his phone while Aaron stared disgustedly at him, then looked towards Neil.

“I already hate you. What’s your deal with Andrew anyways?” He looked skeptical. Neil scoffed at the abrupt confession.

“I should be asking you the same thing. You don’t see Andrew after years of ignoring him then come back when you need his brains for a case? What an asshole kind of brother are you?” He said and Aaron looked like he was going to strangle Neil, but calmed down before he could, knowing his place apparently. Especially if needing something from his brother. Neil assumed it was also because he had a reputation to hold, and if the government found out he was strangling an innocent civilian - not entirely Eco-friendly, is it?

Minyard glared down at Aaron as if he was waiting for him to do something about Neil, the latter didn’t. Instead, he simply ignored the two boys and continued to chat about the case, trying to involve Minyard who didn’t spare him the glance. He handed his brother a file when he was done, and the other picked it up with a similar look of boredom to the whole ordeal.

“Adam West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in.” Aaron explained.

“Jumped in front of a train?” Neil asked and Aaron glared at him.

“Seems the logical assumption.” He said.

“But?” Andrew asked.

“But what?”

Neil stared at him. “Well, you wouldn’t be here if it was just an accident.”

Aaron sighed. “The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defense system – the Bruce-Partington Program, it’s called. The plans for it were on a memory stick.”

Neil quietly snorted. “That wasn’t very clever.” He said and Minyard smiled in agreement.

“It’s not the only copy.” Aaron emphasized to Neil who just put up his hands as if he was innocent for this one. “But it is secret. And missing.”

“Top secret?” Neil asked smugly.

“Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can’t possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands.” Aaron explained and turned towards Minyard. “You’ve got to find those plans, Andrew. Don’t make me say the word.”

This got Minyard’s attention and he looked as calm as he could towards Aaron. “I’d like to see you try.” He warned.

Aaron gave up and rubbed his temples. “At least think it over.” Minyard stared at him, unimpressed.

Aaron turned to walk away, glaring briefly at Neil in his tracks.

Neil then frowned across to Minyard when Aaron was finally out of the building. “Why’d you lie?”

“About my brother? I did say he was my brother, you just didn’t ask which kind.” Minyard shrugged and Neil rolled his eyes.

“Not that, I don’t care about your brother. Especially not now. I meant about you being busy, you’ve got nothing on – not one single case. Why did you tell your brother you have stuff planned?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Neil seemed to understand. “Sibling rivalry. Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Minyard's phone began to ring. He flipped it out, and asked who it was. There was silence for a moment as Minyard listened, then his face contorted to something Neil didn’t know. “Of course. How could I refuse?” He said and put his phone away, standing up to head towards the door. He waited for a moment before looking back at Neil. “That was Wymack. I’ve been summoned. Coming?”

 

 

The boys arrived at New Scotland Yard shortly after the call, and were now following Detective Inspector Wymack across the general precinct towards his office. “You like the funny cases, don’t you? The surprising ones.” He called up.

“Obviously.” Andrew muttered.

“Then you’ll love this. That explosion-”

“Apparently a gas leak, yes?” There was a hint of sarcasm. Andrew knew better than to think that it was, police would just say this to calm down citizens. Hopefully it was something more.

Wymack shook his head. “No. And of course you knew that already. It was made to look like one.”

“What?” Josten spoke up. This information seemed to be new to Josten. For however long he was on the run, he was oblivious. How on earth did he survive until now?

They ended up in Wymack’s office, Wymack collapsing on his chair and Andrew stopped to stare down at the white envelope lying on his desk.

“Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, and inside it, was this.” He pointed to what Andrew was looking at.

Andrew frowned. “You haven’t opened it?”

“It’s addressed to you, isn’t it?” Andrew reached towards the envelope, suspicion growing on his face. “We’ve X-rayed it. It’s not booby-trapped.” Wymack pointed out and Andrew rolled his eyes. Of course it wasn’t. Holding the envelope in hand, Andrew examined both sides carefully. On the front in elegant handwriting were the words: _Andrew Minyard_.

“Nice stationery. Bohemian.” Andrew noted. Wymack looked puzzled. “From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?” A slow shake of Wymack’s head confirmed this. “She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib.” And what a fancy word that was.

“She?” Josten furrowed his eyebrow.

“Obviously.” Andrew said again to his dismay. Carefully, Andrew slit the envelope open. Inside, was what seemed to be a pink phone.

Andrew heard Josten take a little breath, which he then turned to look at. “But that’s – that’s the phone, the pink phone. From the lady when we first met.”

“It’s not the same phone but it’s supposed to look like it.” Andrew explained, then raised his deduction as he inspected it. “This one’s brand new it seems. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same.”

Andrew switched on the phone and immediately got a voice alert saying he had a new message. It was a voicemail from an unknown caller, but no voice was displayed, just the ticking sounds of a machine. Five ticks it made out. Andrew clicked his tongue.

“Is that it?” Josten furrowed his eyebrow.

“No. That’s not it.” Andrew claimed and a photograph was attached to the message on the phone. He opened it and Wymack came across to look over his shoulder. The picture was of an unfurnished room with a fireplace, wallpaper peeling from the walls and a tall mirror propped up in one corner. A smaller mirror – the type which was usually hung up above a fireplace replacing a mantelpiece. It would have looked just like a regular room, if not a major clue to what he should expect to be another case.

“What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent’s photo and the bloody ticking sound effects.” Wymack asked and Andrew knew what it meant.

“It’s a warning.” He said

“A warning?” Wymack closed his eyes and groaned, muttering something of the likes that he was tired of all this bullshit. Why was he assigned as an investigator? Andrew didn't know.

“Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that - things that could mean nothing other people. But this is five ticks. They’re warning us it’s gonna happen again.” He briefly looked at the photo and started to leave the office, signaling towards Josten and a confused Wymack to follow. “I’ve seen this place before.” He told then both and gave the phone to Josten who looked at the photo briefly.

“What’s gonna happen again?” He asked.

Andrew threw out his hands dramatically with a still monotonous expression and said, “Boom.”

 

 

Wymack and Josten looked even more confused when they arrived in the apartment complex on Baker Street, yet Andrew was fiddling with the keys for their apartment's basement - provided with the help of Bee. He knew he recognised the photo. When Bee first showed him the apartment building, he remembered the basement vividly and how abandoned it seemed. His memory remembered the brief details of the wall and this photo was an exact replica. He just hoped he was right.

“I didn’t expect you to know about the basement.” Bee smiled as Andrew handed her back the keys. Andrew waved her off and looked strangely at the keyhole.

“The door’s been opened recently.” He said.

“No, can’t be. That’s the only key.” Bee said. “I can’t get anyone interested in this section of the building. It’s the damp, I suppose. That’s the curse of basements. Should change it to a therapy office.”

Andrew hummed and pulled open the door. He immediately went inside and Josten seemed curious as to what was in there, looking around at the staircase and how rustic it was. Bee moved along once the boys were inside, leaving them to do what they did best. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Andrew slowly pushed open the door to the living room and walked inside, followed by the other two. The room looked exactly as it did in the photograph with one exception - there was a pair of shoes placed neatly side by side in the middle of the floor. Josten stopped and looked at them and Wymack groaned.

“Shoes.” He stated the obvious. Andrew started to walk towards them but Wymack held out a cautionary hand towards him. “He’s a bomber, remember." Andrew glared at him, but complied. He stopped for a moment, then continued slowly towards the shoes.  _That_ was him complying.

He crouched down and just as his ears were glued to the sneaker, the phone rang. Andrew closed his eyes momentarily and stood up, taking the pink phone from his coat pocket to look at the caller I.D. It was unknown, or more or less a blocked one. He switched it on, and put it on speaker to let the other two males hear it. But before he could say anything, Andrew heard sobbing on the other line. A female voice drawled in a shaky breath before speaking tearfully. “Hello, sexy” She said.

Josten and Wymack exchanged puzzled looks as the woman sobbed. “Who’s this?” Andrew asked seriously.

The woman choked a little on tears. “I’ve sent you a little puzzle just to say hi.” She said, sounding as if she was reading off of something and Andrew sucked in a breath.

“Who’s talking? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying, I’m typing.” The woman’s voice shook as she spoke, and Andrew’s eyes widened. They were being programmed. The bomber was using civilians as a way to communicate and Andrew would bet his life that they were the next victims to the bomber's little show. “... And this stupid bitch is reading it out.” The woman said, earning Andrew’s theory in check.

“Of course.” Andrew said softly to himself.

“What?” Josten asked, looking worried of the situation.

“I’ve been expecting this for some time.” Andrew clarified.

“Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Minyard. Or I’m going to be _oh_ so naughty.” There was a last cry and then the phone went off.

 

 

Andrew had brought the trainers to a lab and put on a pair of latex gloves, looking closely at every inch of detail on the shoes. He examined the laces carefully, peering at the shoes from all directions, dug out dried mud from the treads in the soles and put everything he found into small dishes. He scanned the shoes, and was now waiting for the screen to show that the tests had been run. Josten was wandering up and down the room. “Any ideas on who it is?”

His own phone texted an alert, Andrew ignored it to look up at Josten. “Hmm?”

“The woman on the phone – the crying woman.”

“Oh, she doesn’t matter. She’s just a hostage. No lead there.”

“She’s still human, Andrew. And about to die.”

Andrew shrugged. “You’re not going to be much use to her.” The scanner read a ‘No Match’ sign on the screen, and Andrew clicked his tongue.

“Will they trace the call?”

“Stop worrying about phone tracers. The bomber’s too smart for that.” Another text on his phone made him lose focus on the shoes. “Pass me my phone.” He asked Josten and the latter complied, getting the phone from the table in front.

“Text from your brother.” He said, and gave it to Andrew.

Andrew looked at the phone with a deadpanned expression, not taking it from Josten’s hands. “Delete it.” He said.

“Says: Any progress on Adam West’s death?” Andrew stared at Josten. He didn’t want him to have read it allowed, he wanted it to be deleted.

“Same answer, delete it.” He said and this time Josten sighed, deleting the message. “Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it.” He explained.

Josten snickered. “Well, Aaron thinks there is. He’s texted you eight times. Must be important.”

“Then why didn’t he cancel his date?”

“His what?”

“Aaron never texts if he can talk. Though he never talks that much anyways. He just does his job and hangs out with that girl Katelyn. If it was so important, he'd cancel date night. Look, Adam West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his plans. End of story. The only mystery in this, is why my brother is so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?” Andrew looked back into the microscope and he could see Josten stare at him from the corner of his eye. “Staring again.” He sighed.

“You don’t seem to like this girl Katelyn.”

“He broke off our deal to hang out with her.”

“What deal?” It was Josten’s turn after all, Andrew reminded himself.

“After his mother died tragically of course, I told him nobody could ever hurt him again. We made a deal that it would just be me and him until after college. He ended up dating Katelyn before the deal weared off, it was ever _so_  pleasant to have learned the news. Finally after a lot of persuading, Katelyn waited until they graduated. They both then got themselves married, ran off to somewhere in Scotland. What a waste of oxygen. That being said, the deal between me and my brother is off, and I could care less about the two of them nor what information he needs from me.” Josten hummed and the doors to the laboratory opened and in came Renee. Josten ignored the prior conversation with he appearance, probably for the better. “Ah, Renee! Good timing.” And what good timing it all was when the screen flashed ‘Search Complete’ at the same time Renee came in. What a miracle she was.

Renee nodded their way, perhaps not to stay for a chat but more because she had work to do.

Andrew grinned and reached over, moving one of the trainers on the desk closer to Josten. “You try.” He said. Josten looked confused then Andrew elaborated, “You want to become better at this stuff, yes? Try and look at them, Josten. Investigate.” Josten seemed like he wasn’t ready, but sucked in a breath and picked up the shoe from Andrew with a pair of gloves on hands. Clearing his throat, he looked at them closely then towards Andrew.

“I’m not sure. They’re just a pair of shoes. Or well... trainers.” Andrew waited and Josten narrowed his eyes at the object in hand. “They’re in good form. I’d say they were pretty new, except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while. Probably a man’s, gathering the size.”

“But?” He asked to engage the younger male.

“But there’s traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don’t write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid.”

“Good.” Andrew concluded and then Josten seemed stumped, not seeming to get any more information. From a simple mind, they did look just like simple shoes. So Andrew decided to help out a bit. “The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces three - no, four times. But there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, you were right. More so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old.” He added on.

Josten straightened up. “Twenty years?”

“They’re original.” Andrew then tossed the phone to Josten who caught it instinctively, an image portrayed on the screen of some shoes - the exact same shoes that were in front of them. Josten furrowed his eyebrows. “Limited edition, two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine.”

“But there’s still mud on them. They look new, yet they aren’t.” Josten said.

“Someone’s kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it’s from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it.”

“And how do you know?”

To this, Andrew nudged towards the computer screen which showed another match of the vials he took from the soles. “Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.”

Josten nodded while looking at the screen. “So what happened to him?”

“Something bad.” Andrew decided. “He loved those shoes, remember. He’d never leave them filthy. Wouldn’t let them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets-” He was interrupted by his thought process. Oh how it now made sense.

“What?” Josten looked confused.

“Carl Powers.” He decided, and this did nothing to Josten as he stared at Andrew to elaborate.

“Who?” He asked.

“Carl Powers, Josten. Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid, a champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament and then drowned in the pool.” Andrew explained.

“Sounds fishy.”

“Yet nobody thought so – nobody except a few like me or you. I read about it in the papers, at a foster home I was in at the time. They kept many newspapers from over the years, the interesting ones. And I always read through them in my spare time. It happened a couple years before I was born and it intrigued me as a child, because one boy couldn’t just drown if he was a good swimmer. Didn’t exactly click, did it? They said the boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late." He told. "Yet there was something wrong, something I couldn’t get out of my head. Not about who he was, but more about what was missing.”

“And what was that?”

“His shoes.”

“What about them?”

“They just weren’t there. I knew I had no say in the matter because it had already passed, I was but a child, however nobody spotted that outcome. Nobody seemed to think it was important at the time. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes.” Andrew grabbed the trainers from the table and grinned. “Until now that is.”

 

 

There was five hours to go before the next attack, and Andrew had shut himself in the kitchen, looking through photographs and printouts of newspaper reports of Carl Powers’ death from nineteen eighty-nine.

“Can I help?” Josten asked and Andrew’s phone alerted a text from Aaron. It read, 'Any developments?' Andrew groaned internally, deleting the message. “That’s your brother again, isn’t it?”

“Sadly. He can be quite obnoxious when he wants to be. I think it was the change in job.”

“What did he even mean by national importance?”

“He’s all Queen and country now. Never took him for the type until he joined the government after they saw how well he did in medical school and what he could do with the technology at hand.”

“Are you just going to ignore him then?”

“I’m not ignoring him. Putting my best man onto it right now, actually.”

“And who’s that?”

 

 

Well fuck, Neil was going to kill Minyard.

This was not what he meant by helping and he certainly didn’t want to do it. Just because Minyard told him he needed more social experience, did not mean he had to send him to his brother - who probably hated him and it was obviously mutual by both parties. All because Minyard wanted to kill two birds with one stone - fuck him if that was his excuse.

So Neil fiddled with his finger on the desk which faced the other blond. The office itself was intimidating and had an aura of superiority to it, Neil silently gritted his teeth.

Aaron stared up at him front the adjacent side of the desk, back facing a large window on the high tower of some sort of parliament. “How can I help you?” Aaron Minyard asked.

“Andrew sent me to collect more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans.” Neil said.

Aaron looked at some files in hand, straightening them out. “Did he?”

“Yes. What can you can tell me about the dead man?” Neil leaned back on his chair and tilted his head, trying to look somewhat threatening. Apparently it was not working.

“He’s twenty-seven, a clerk at Vauxhall Cross – MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-Partington Program in a minor capacity. Security checks are okay, no known terrorist affiliations or sympathies.” Neil was already bored and didn’t understand political government talk. He glared at Aaron who just continued on, resting his head on his hand, which was leaned against the chair's armrest. “He was last seen by his fiancée at ten thirty yesterday evening. Fiance called after him but he just left from a sudden phone call, was what she said.”

“Right. He was found at Battersea, yes? The press said he got on the train, will you also express your opinion on that?” Neil asked.

"No.” Aaron sighed. Neil raised an eyebrow. “He had an Oyster card. But it hadn’t been used.”

"Could have bought a ticket.”

“There was no ticket on the body.”

“Could have-”

Aaron rolled his eyes and interrupted Neil slightly frustrated. “Your comments are unnecessary. How did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is the question to be asked here – the one I was rather hoping Andrew would provide an answer to. But seeing how that’s getting on-”

This time it was Neil who interrupted him. “That’s being sorted out, yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just came here to get information on the dead dude. Have a good day.” Neil replied sarcastically, saluted the blond and exited the office with a frown. Asshole.

 

 

Minyard had moved from the kitchen to looking into his microscope in the living room when Neil came back to give him the information. He wondered if Minyard was really going to take the case, or just sent him there to get Aaron off his back. Betsy was sitting quietly in their living room when Neil arrived and he found her strangely quite comforting lately. She smiled when she saw Neil, and gave him a prepared mug of coffee. He thanked her, knowing well that if she made it, it wouldn’t contain any sugar like Minyard usually put in.

Minyard noticed the affair taking place in the living room, and looked at Josten. “Poison.” He told him.

“What you going on about?” Betsy raised an eyebrow.

“Your drink. Why would a mere human take pure black coffee unless they were proven to be someone with an inferiority complexe?... Also, clostridium botulinum.” Minyard looked away from his scope, and raised an eyebrow at the two. Betsy sighed and Neil took a spot down on the sofa. “Funny thing bout clostridium botulinum - it's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet.” They both look at him blankly. “Carl Powers.” No comment.

“Are you trying to say Carl Powers was murdered?” Neil tilted his head inquiringly.

Minyard stood up and walked over to where he had hung up the trainers. “Remember the shoelaces?” Neil hummed, Betsy sipped her tea. “The boy suffered from eczema. It’d be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns.”

“How come the autopsy didn’t pick that up?” Neil asked.

“It’s virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it. But there were still tiny traces of it left inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet. That’s why they had to go.”

“So how do we let the bomber know?”

“Get his attention.”

“How?”

“Stop the clock.” Andrew said which didn’t mean anything to anybody. “The killer kept the shoes all these years.” Andrew said and looked towards Neil. “Meaning?”

“He’s our bomber.” Neil concluded.

The pink phone rang on the side table and Andrew hurried over to switch it on speaker. The sobs of a woman were anguished as she read out the latest message from the bomber.

“Well done, you. Come and get me.” She choked out.

 

 

Josten and Andrew were in Wymack’s office shortly after the rescue. The bomb disposal team found the woman once she gave them her address and safely made her way out, bomb attached to her torso and defused at last.

“She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house.” Wymack explained to the two boys in front of his desk. “Bomber told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager.” He passed out the pager towards them and Josten picked it up to read all the directives.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off.” Andrew said.

“Or if you hadn’t solved the case.” Josten affirmed.

Wymack took two fingers to his temple. “But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?”

“I can’t be the only person in the world that gets bored.” Andrew said and the pink phone rang once again. A new message was available and it wasn’t a voice, it was the beeping sounds. Instead of five ticks this time, it was four and it unsettled the three men.

“Four ticks.” Josten noted, confused.

Andrew hummed. “First test passed, it would seem. Here’s the second.”

Andrew swept through the message on the phone, and a picture showed up as well. Another clue to where the next victim would be. He showed the photograph to Wymack and Josten, it only consisted of a close up of a car, with the driver’s door open and the number plate clearly visible.

“It’s abandoned, wouldn’t you say?”

“I’ll see if it’s been reported.” Wymack said and went out of the room.

Gordon then entered in place and threw the communal phone towards Andrew. “For you, asshole.” He said and left. Andrew answered the phone and the frightened voice of a young boy was heard.

“It’s okay that you’ve gone to the police.” He said.

“Who is this? Is this you again?” Andrew narrowed his eyes.

“But don’t rely on them.” The young male continued. Andrew turned to look at Josten who straightened up. “Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers. I never liked him. Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him from ever laughing again.” The voice trembled.

Andrew clicked his tongue. “And you’ve stolen another voice, I presume.”

“This is about you not me.”

“Who are you?” Andrew asked, knowing well he probably would not get an answer from it. There was a sound in the background, cars perhaps. Traffic? “What’s that noise?”

“The sounds of life, Minyard.” The man said, sounding scared. He may have been just eighteen, maybe less. “But don’t worry, I can soon fix that soon.” He said with a sob. “You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight.”

The phone went dead and Wymack motioned for Andrew to snap out of it. “We’ve found it. The car in the photograph.” He said.

 

 

The police had arrived at a large open space where the car was found. Forensic officers were working on the scene as Wymack led Andrew and Josten towards it. Boyd was working among all the officers and waved when he saw them both. Josten smiled at him and Andrew noticed how friendly they were being these days, he was glad Josten was being more sociable and had friends other than him.

“The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind, a City boy. Paid in cash.” Boyd said as Andrew looked over to a woman talking with a female officer and wondered what role she played in this. The wife, probably. Interesting. “Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived.” Boyd continued when he saw who Andrew was looking at.

Andrew continued towards the car, which had a large amount of blood smeared over the front of two seats. He put on the latex gloves and opened the door. “Before you ask, yes, it’s Monkford’s blood. The DNA checks out.” Wymack said.

Andrew hummed. “No body.”

“Not yet.” Boyd said.

Looking over to Wymack, Andrew said, “Get a sample sent to the lab.” Knowing well he’d send something to Renee who could investigate it. Wymack nodded and Andrew walked towards the woman who was talking to the officer.

“Mrs Monkford?” He asked. The woman in question turned towards Andrew with tears in her eyes.

“Yes.” She then looked down at both Andrew and Josten, sighing. “Sorry, but I’ve already spoken with two policemen.”

Josten cleared his throat. “No, we’re not from the police, I’m Neil Josten. We’re very old friends of your husband. We grew up together.” He motioned him and Andrew. Andrew just side-eyed him with interest.

“I’m sorry, who? I don’t think he ever mentioned you.” She said.

“Oh, he must have done. This is, this is horrible, isn’t it?” Andrew frowned, pretending to care of the dead man. He almost saw Josten snicker but he kept a straight face either way, to not make the woman think any differently. “I mean, I just can’t believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian – not a care in the world.”

“Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?”

“Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Monkford furrowed her eyebrows. “No, it isn’t. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that’s all.”

“Oh, well, that Ian. Typical as always.”

“No it wasn’t.” She looked confused and Andrew looked at her intensely.

“Wasn’t it? Interesting.”

Andrew then turned and walked away, leaving a confused Monkford in his tail. “Why is it interesting?” Josten said when they were away from the woman.

“People don’t like telling you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?” Neil hummed. “I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature – they’ve only just found the car.”

“You think she murdered her husband?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Definitely not. That’s not a mistake a murderer would make.”

“I see. No, wait, I don’t. What am I seeing?” He shook his head. “Where to now?”

“Janus Cars.” Andrew pointed out and handed their business card to Josten. “Found this in the car.”

 

 

Andrew and Josten were in the office of the car hire company after their little investigation. They wouldn’t be here for long, but they needed a few pieces of information. Andrew sat at the one chair adjacent to Mr. Ewert - the manager to the place. Josten just walked around the room, looking at everything he could while waiting for them both to be done.

“Can’t see how I can help you gentlemen.” Ewert said as he glared at Andrew.

“Mr. Monkford hired the car from you yesterday.” Josten said as he looked out of the window towards the forecourt. Ewert glared at him slightly, then back to Andrew.

“Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn’t mind one of them myself.”

“Is that one, then?” Josten asked and pointed outside the window where a line of cars was seen. Ewert turned his head and Andrew took this distraction to closely look at the side of the man’s tanned neck.

“No, they’re all Jags. Yeah, I can see you’re not a car man?” He smirked at Josten. Andrew sighed. Of course Josten wouldn’t be, he had no sense in anything.

“But surely you can afford one then – a Mazda, I mean?” Josten tried for more.

Ewert grinned. “Yeah, it’s a fair point. But you know how it is, it’s like working in a sweetshop. Once you start picking at the good stuff, when could you ever stop?” Josten scoffed and Ewert started scratching near the top of his left arm. Andrew looked at it momentarily.

“But you didn’t know Mr. Monkford?” Josten asked, looking at an assortment of tools on the wall.

“No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor guy.” Andrew tilted his head at the words spoken, looking to Ewert's desk and back to his hands.

“Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?” He asked.

“Eh? Where did that come from?”

“You’ve been away, haven’t you?” Andrew declared.

“Oh.” Ewert gestured to his tanned face. “No, it’s, um, sunbeds, I’m afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would of loved it, though – to go on vacation.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?” Andrew asked in lieu, and Josten looked towards him.

“What?” Ewert seemed confused.

“Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven’t got any change.” Andrew adjusted his arm bands. “I’m dying here.” Andrew stared at him and Ewert looked a bit dazed but reached into his pants, taking out his wallet. He searched around a bit, but found no coins.

“No, sorry.”

“Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert.” Andrew had enough of him, and had what he wanted. Turning his way towards the door, he said, “You’ve been very helpful. Come on, Josten.” Josten put down one of the tools displayed on the wall, and they both left.

“I’ve got some change if you want.” He said and Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“No, not in the mood.”

“Then what was that all about?”

“I needed to look inside his wallet.” Andrew declared and Josten seemed confused. “Because Mr. Ewert’s a liar."

The pink phone in his pocket rang again and Josten looked at Andrew who took it out and answered. “The clue’s in the name. Janus Cars.” The younger man said and Andrew met Josten’s gaze.

“Why would you be giving me a clue?”

“Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were made for each other, Minyard. I’ve been doing some research on you and what you’ve been up to, with whom as well.” The man teared up.

“Then talk to me in your own voice.” Andrew gritted out.

“Patience.” The younger man whispered and the line went dead.

 

 

They were back at the car scene and only had three hours left before the bomb would go off. Andrew clicked his tongue and looked towards Wymack. “How much blood was on that seat, would you say?”

“How much? About a pint.” Wymack answered.

“Not about. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The blood’s definitely Ian Monkford’s but it’s been frozen.” Andrew corrected.

“Frozen?”

“There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago and that’s what they spread on the seats.”

“Who did?” Josten asked.

“Janus Cars. The clue’s in the name.” He repeated what the bomber said.

“Janus. The god with two faces.” Josten said.

“Exactly.” Andrew pointed to Josten. At least he knew some history on gods and deities. “They provide a very special service. If you’ve got any kind of a problem - money troubles, bad marriage, whatever - Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble, especially financial. At a guess, he’s a banker. Couldn’t see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with his blood all over the driver’s seat, you get the point.”

“So where is he?” Josten asked, intrigued by what the company was hiding.

Andrew grinned. “Colombia.”

Wymack didn’t look convinced. “Colombia?”

“Mr. Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian pesos in his wallet.” Andrew said and Josten made a face that he finally understood something. “Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadn’t been abroad recently, but when I asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly. Josten, care to explain the rest?” He looked towards the man, who cleared his throat.

Josten was uncomfortable in his ability to deduce and how he gave out information at first, however he got the hang of it the more he spoke on. “No one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm. I tried to distract him while Andrew noticed his get-up. He'd be focused on me fiddling with his important collection, that he'd be clumsy enough to let other flaws show in order to maintain his control. He's a bit of a freak, him.” Josten huffed. 

“Wait... his arm?” Wymack asked.

“Ewert kept scratching his arm. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding. The question was why? It was obvious he’d recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell from my distance, but Andrew probably could go into detail. Which meant he just came back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in Colombia. Mrs. Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars.” Josten smiled proudly and wished he could high-five someone at this point.

“Mrs. Monkford?” Wymack looked appalled.

“Oh yes. She’s in on it too.” Andrew added, as if the fact was rather important and they missed it out. Which was actually the case, he realised. “Now go and arrest them, Inspector. That’s what you do best.” Then he turned to Josten. “Now we need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved. That his second test is done.”

 

 

The next morning, the boys were at a cafe taking a break from the recent threat, waking up early enough to not miss anything new. The bomb defusal team rescued the younger male from the streets and brought him safely home to his worried parents. A senior in high school, must have been a blow for him. Now both of the boys were just waiting for another call which could happen at anytime. Hence the routinely morning break.

Minyard brought Neil his black coffee while he got a sugary concoction of diabetes for himself, both settling down at the window table. When sipping at the taste of something energetic for his system, Neil noticed Minyard tapping his fingers on the table, irritated by something that probably involved their bombing case as he watched the pink phone anxiously. A TV was in the corner of the cafe, airing the recent news that Neil could care less about.

“Feeling okay?” Neil asked and Minyard hummed. “Has it occurred to you-”

“Probably.”

“You didn’t even let me finish, jackass." Neil rolled his eyes and placed down his cup, gripping it with all ten fingers tight enough that he felt the heat gather into his skin. It did not hurt, it simply made him feel relaxed. "I'll repeat what I was  _trying_  to say. Has it occurred to you that the bomber’s playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid’s shoes – it’s all meant for you.”

Minyard knew well enough. “Yes, I know.” Then the phone alerted a new message to which Minyard was right on it. Three beeps this time and the photo consisted of an older woman, smiling on screen.

“That could be anybody.” Minyard seemed unimpressed. Neil perked up at the photo.

Neil laughed a little before talking. “Well, it could be, yeah. Lucky for you, I’ve been paying attention.” He continued to smile, like he was pleased with himself. Minyard frowned. “I’ve been watching a lot of Exy these days and on the commercial breaks, she appears. She has a show, kind of a celebrity I think.”

Then the pink phone rang.

Minyard quickly answered, “Hello."

An older woman spoke. “This one is a bit defective. Sorry.” She said, emphasizing with each word slowly like she was having struggles. Neil could only fear the worst. “She’s blind." The woman told them both, fright in her voice like it did with the others. "This is a funny one. I’ll give you twelve hours.”

“Why are you doing this?” Minyard asked and Neil had to agree he wanted answers. Whoever it was, was trying to mess with Minyard big time. For what? What purpose?

“I like to watch you suffer.” The woman finished, gasping in sobs as the line went dead and Neil looked towards the ground as silence filled the room, only the voices of people around and the sound of the coffee machine at work. Minyard lowered the phone and shook his head towards Neil, dropping the device onto the table as he turned to look at the TV. The news was on and it read: _make-over queen Connie Prince dead at 48_.

“-continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programs, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead.” The reporter said.

Neil and Andrew looked between one another and mutually sighed.

 

 

Connie Prince’s body had been laid out on a table in the morgue, with a sheet covering her. The display only showing her head details, arms and upper chest bare. Renee led the boys into the room, reading from a file as she went. “Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did you see it?”

“No.” Andrew said flatly.

Josten looked to Andrew. “She was the one I saw in the commercial.”

“Very popular. She was going places.” Renee agreed.

“Not any more.” Andrew scoffed. “So, dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound.” He and Josten looked at the deep cut in between her right thumb and index finger. “Tetanus bacteria entered the bloodstream.” Josten agreed silently but then Andrew furrowed his eyebrows. “Something’s wrong with this picture.”

“What is?” Renee asked.

“Can’t be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn’t be directing us towards it. Something’s wrong of course.” He narrowed his eyes at the body and looked along Connie’s right arm as he looked closer to inspect the details. There were several scratches on her upper arm which looked like claw marks. He moved up to her face and noticed some tiny pinpricks on her forehead just above her nose.

“Josten?” The man himself looked up at him in question. “The cut on her hand, it’s deep. Would have bled a lot, right?”

“Yeah.” Josten agreed, confused.

“But the wound’s clean, very clean, and fresh.” Andrew pointed out and Josten gave it a look. “How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?”

Josten straightened up, calculating the numbers in his mind. “About eight... ten days.” Andrew quirked a one-sided grin and turned to Josten, waiting for him to put it all together. Josten's eyebrows rose. “The cut was made later.” 

“After she was dead?” Renee asked.

“Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead woman’s system?” Andrew looked to each wound. Should have been one of them, surely. “Josten, I need Connie Prince’s background – family history, everything. Give me data.” He nodded and left the room. Andrew looked down at Connie’s body once more and headed out the same way Josten did, with Renee by his side.

“There’s something else that we haven’t thought of.” She said.

“Is there?” He asked.

“Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?” Andrew paused for a second. He couldn’t tell her, not unless he had to get her involved. He already had Josten close to being in danger, and even then he was anxious about everything that this was led to. But he had to know more, he had to know the killer behind these attacks. However, even with many people asking that same question, he had no answers himself. “If this woman’s death was suspicious, why point it out?” Renee asked further.

“Good samaritan.” Andrew shrugged.

“A good samaritan who press-gangs suicide bombers? Sure.” Renee smiled.

“Bad samaritan.” Andrew corrected if that made her happy.

“I’m serious, Andrew. Listen, I’m trusting you – but out there somewhere, some poor soul is covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me, what you you dealing with?” She looked towards Andrew with a pitiful look in her eyes. Andrew just shrugged her off. He had this, it was fine.

Instead, he told her, “Something new.”

 

 

The wall behind the sofa was covered with paperwork. Maps, photographs of Connie Prince – both when she was alive and pictures taken in the morgue – photos of Carl Powers, press cuttings and various sheets of paper with notes scribbled on them. Pieces of string were pinned between some of the exhibits, linking them together. Andrew was pacing back and forth in front of the sofa while Wymack stood nearby.

“Connection. There must be a connection.” Andrew stopped and gestured towards various spots on the display on the wall as he spoke. “Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him, admitted that he knew him. The bomber’s iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. First hostage from Cornwall. The second from London, the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. What’s he doing – working his way round the world? Showing off?”

The pink phone rang and Andrew was quick to grab the phone. He switched on the speaker, and the old woman began to sob once more.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Joining the dots. You pretend to be angered by the issues, but you secretly love it.” She cried slowly and quietly that Andrew only made it out by the loud hiccuped breaths. “Three hours, Minyard. Then boom.” The phone went dead and Wymack raised an eyebrow at the blond. Andrew looked at him for a moment, then switched off the phone, putting it back in his pocket, wondering how Josten was doing with the information.

Bee joined them shortly after and gave them both cups of tea. She and Wymack were good friends, so they chatted about random topics for a bit while Andrew sipped his cup and concentrated. Bee used to watch Connie’s shows, so she was quite saddened about her death. Andrew invited the two over to watch some of the earlier Connie Prince episodes, in order to maintain information.

“It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colours.” She said to Wymack.

“Colours?” Wymack asked, drowning down the rest of his tea.

“You know,” She gestured to around her. “What goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me. But yellow could bring out my eyes.” She noted quite sincerely and Wymack looked confused. He probably never thought about this in his life, probably had Abby to do all of those decor shit for him.

Andrew received a text and Wymack looked at him skeptically. “Who’s that?”

“Don’t look shocked. Just Home Office.”

“Home Office?”

“Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favour. Nothing about the case.”

Bee was still going on about Connie Prince, not quite finished her rant on the matter. “She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much. They all do these days.” She noted, she probably saw a lot of it with her patients who overdid themselves to make them feel better. Bee looked towards Wymack with a smile. “Did you ever see her show?”

Wymack shook his head and Andrew looked at his notes. “Not until now.” He said, turning on the TV which was airing one of Connie’s shows, the woman herself was talking with her brother and honestly the whole show and concept seemed too preppy for Andrew’s taste. Bee smiled at the TV and Wymack looked confused as to what he was seeing. It was an earlier episode, before she died and Andrew put it on to see if anything she would say could help with the case.

“You look pasty, love!” She clasped her hands together and looked towards her brother on screen.

“Ah. Maybe it was because of the rain.” Her brother commented. Bee turned towards Wymack.

“That’s the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers.” She said.

Andrew hummed. “So I gather. I’ve just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this show. Fan sites – indispensable for gossip.”

On TV, Connie gestured to her brother’s clothes. “There’s really only one thing we can do with that ensemble, don’t you think, girls?” She stood up and clapped her hands, rhythmically chanting “Off!” with the crowed.

Andrew simply frowned.

 

 

Neil wouldn’t deny that he was nervous. This was his first ever interrogation alone, and even though he had done many things by himself, he had never confronted people to ask about their deceased family member without seeming too suspicious, without Minyard by his side. So here Neil was, at Kenny Prince’s house - brother to Connie and a possible suspect towards the murder.

Honestly, the house itself was beautiful and elegantly decorated. Something Neil had never had the luxury to have. Being on the run, and prior to living with his father, he lived in small bricks of a home, alleyway rentables, and even then sometimes only locker rooms.

Neil knocked at the door three times, and a hairless cat meowed at him when he turned to wait. He smiled down at the feline when an elder man opened the door. He wasn’t that old, but held an aura of superiority that Neil didn’t like as much. He stood tall over him and looked at Neil with confusion to why he was there.

“Yes?”

Neil was glad he came prepared for these. “Hi, I’m Neil Josten. I work for a school papers, and I was wondering if I can ask a few questions about your loss. I thought I could go to the family themselves because you all have such an interesting lifestyle, and a difference between what you would go through compared to other people. I’m just interested is all, I’m working my way up to be an actual reporter.” Neil smiled as best as he could. Kenny looked down at him with fondness and allowed him inside with a wave of his hand, taking the hairless cat in his arms in the meantime. When Kenny wasn’t paying attention, Neil frowned and looked away as he entered. Composing himself for a few seconds of freedom.

While living in fancy house, it was even more grand in the interior and a little too much for Neil’s taste. Kenny sat down on the sofa and behind him was a much younger male who seemed to be a houseboy of some sort.

“We’re devastated. Of course we are.” Kenny started and Neil took out a fake notepad from his pocket and a pen to accompany it, deciding to convince them by taking notes. Kenny gestured for Neil to take a seat on the adjacent couch, and so he did, seeming a bit uncomfortable but doing well to pretend to know what he was doing.

The houseboy looked at Neil. “Can I get you anything, sir?”

“No. No, thanks.”

The houseboy looked across the room to Kenny, who smiled at him. Houseboy returned the smile, then turned to leave the room. Neil raised an eyebrow and bit the pen in hand, chewing at the tip. “That's Raoul, he's like a rock to me. I don’t think I could have managed without him.” Kenny noted, then continued on his despair of Connie's death. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me.”

Neil jumped a little when the cat climbed onto his lap and meowed loudly in protest to be petted. Neil complied but then Kenny whistled and the cat jumped back off. Neil was actually quite enjoying the feline, and was disappointed when the cat left for it's owner. A grudge was possibly forming.

“And to the public, Mr. Prince? How was she?” Neil asked, a smile which held ferocity to it. Kenny did not seem to notice the change in aura.

“Oh, she was adored. I’ve seen her take girls who looked like the back end of Routemasters and turn them into princesses.” He laughed. The cat climbed back onto Neil’s lap and he secretly felt smug that the cat chose him over Kenny. Maybe he just had a thing for cats, who knew. He started petting it again, this time Kenny didn’t interfere and let him be with the not-fuzzy friend. “Still, it’s a relief in a way to know that she’s beyond this veil of tears.”

“Absolutely.” Neil said, scratching the cat behind it's ears. It purred and Neil's mouth curled up in a genuine smile. “It’s more common than people think. The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left untreated-”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now.” Kenny interrupted him which annoyed Neil to an extent. The man sat next to Neil, a little too close for comfort. This time, the cat did not help Neil's anxiety.

“Right.” Neil said nervously.

“I mean, she’s left me this place, which is lovely,” Neil tried to move further away from Kenny but Kenny only followed. The cats ears perked up at the tension in Neil's body. “But it’s not the same without her.” He sighed dramatically.

“That’s why my paper wanted to get the full story straight from the brother’s mouth. You sure it’s not too soon?”

“No.” Kenny stared at Neil intensely.

“Right.” Neil repeated.

“You fire away.” Kenny said and Neil pet the cat once more, thinking of what he was going to say, but there was a certain smell that seemed off about the cat after being on his lap for so long. Maybe this was when Minyard would mutter something under his breath, when he found a clue or some useful information. In the meantime, Neil just chucked nervously to Kenny who didn’t move away and asked more unimportant questions for a fake newspaper he’d never write.

 

 

Bee had left the room, waving a goodbye to Andrew and Wymack. Wymack slouched down on the couch, closing his eyes and seeming rather tired from all the Connie episodes. Andrew just tapped his fingers on the kitchen table when his phone rang. The caller ID was not the usual _Unknown_ or blocked number, it was just a number that Andrew didn’t know. He answered and heard plates clattering in the background.

“Andrew.” Josten said on the other end and Andrew wondered where the hell he was.

“Josten.”

“Hi, yes. Look, get over here quickly. I think I’m onto something. You’ll need to pick up some stuff first. Also, you got a pen? Mine ran out, been writing blank words and doodling since about... thirty minutes ago.” He said and Andrew looked around for a pen, wondering what he was doing to run out of a pen. He found one in the kitchen after a small rummage through his things.

"Yes, I do.” He told Josten who then cut the line after he said a few items and an address. Andrew looked at the phone in question, then grabbed his coat and went out, saluting Wymack who was probably asleep already.

 

 

Kenny observed himself too much in the mirror and that annoyed Neil. He was more or less narcissistic, rich, openly flamboyant man who tried to get with Neil too many times despite Neil saying he was a  _high school kid_. Presumably. Did not stop Kenny from reaching for his thighs, however, and Neil simply told him he was allergic to other people's finger nails and would inflate and puss all over his fancy couch if he so held a finger towards his skin. A rare disease, Neil explained to him. Apparently that did the trick.

It did not surprise Neil, actually, since Kenny was dramatic and an arrogant asshole who cared more for his furniture and money than he did for people. From the hour Neil had to spend with him - due to needing information and waiting for Andrew to come here immediately - he found Kenny to quickly escelate his list of people he would be okay with throwing off a running train. 

On that note, Neil realised something in that hour. There was obviously something going on with Raoul and Kenny from how much they gazed at each other when one entered the room, silently undressing each other with their eyes. It would have been alright if Kenny wasn’t like fifty and Raoul possibly just a college graduate. Considering Neil was supposedly younger, it made matters even worse.

Nearby, the entrance door had shut closed and, on the sofa, Neil put down his teacup and started to get up, happy to get away from Kenny and his concept of a conversation. “That’ll be him.” Neil said.

Kenny looked confused. “What?”

Raoul came in the room and showed Minyard into the living room. Minyard had a large bag over his shoulder and was carrying a long narrow case which was presumably designed to hold a photographic tripod. So he did bring the stuff. He tossed over a pen to Neil, who caught it and smiled at the blond. Then Minyard walked over to Kenny.

“Ah, Mr. Prince, isn’t it?”

Kenny furrowed his eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Very good to meet you.” Minyard said, not sounding genuine.

“Yes.” He repeated.

They shook hands while staring at each other like they were mentally arguing with one another. Neil looked between both and hoped that Minyard would win if a fight were to happen. Minyard finally broke the silence between them and wiped his hand on his shirt. “So sorry to hear about the-”

“Yes, yes, that’s very kind.” Kenny muttered.

Neil coughed. “Shall we?”

Minyard walked over to the sofa and put down the case, while rummaging through his bag. Kenny turned back to the mirror and fiddled with his hair again.

Neil looked towards Minyard. “You were right. The bacteria got into her another way.” He said. Minyard raised an eyebrow with a smug look. “Also we are high school students, keep the act.” Minyard then frowned. What else could he say? The guy wouldn’t let him ask questions if it was the normal press, and wouldn’t believe him from his height if he said they were.

“Right. We all set?” Kenny asked.

Neil looked over to him. “Um, yes.” Then to Andrew who had taken the camera from the bag, jerking his head towards Kenny.

Neil looked at Kenny again. “Can you-?” Kenny didn’t need to been asked twice, he posed near the mantelpiece from the fireplace and Minyard rolled his eyes. Minyard started taking photographs of him like he was some sort of paparazzi and Neil almost laughed at the scene.

“Not too close. I’m raw from crying.” Kenny demanded and Minyard went close anyways. The cat meowed and Minyard raised yet another eyebrow. He looked down at the feline and then towards Kenny.

“Who’s that?” He asked the elder.

“Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess.” Kenny said, like he was talking about his prized possession. As if the cat really was the goddess herself.

“How nice.” Minyard mumbled. “Was she Connie’s?”

Kenny didn’t hesitate when he said, “Yes.”

Neil reached down towards the cat but Kenny beat him to it, bending down and picking Sekhmet up. Neil frowned. “Little present from yours truly.” Kenny said and petted the feline.

“Andrew? The light reading?” He asked and Minyard slightly smirked. He took out the flashgun for the photos and held it up towards Kenny then flashed the bright light in his face. Kenny swore and dropped the cat.

“Bloody hell. What do you think you’re playing at?” Neil immediately reached out and rubbed his fingers over one of the cat’s front paws. Andrew kept firing the flashgun to keep Kenny’s eyes closed, and it seemed to please the shorter male.

“Oh, sorry. Was it too bright?” Andrew tilted his head and Neil sniffed his fingers from the cat’s sent, rubbing them together as Andrew continued to flash Kenny.

“You’re like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you two. What’s going on?” Kenny snarled.

Neil smiled. “Actually, I think we’ve got what we came for. Excuse us.”

“What?”

“Andrew.” Neil said when Minyard kept flashing the light in Kenny’s face. He looked displeased but stopped. Neil then looked to Kenny. “We’ve got deadlines, sorry. Midterms due soon. Hope to see you another time.”

Minyard followed Neil out. The boys hurried out of the house, Neil chuckl8'g as Minyard seemed mildly pleased.

“You proud of me, yet?”

Minyard shrugged. “You think it was the cat. It wasn’t the cat.”

Neil frowned. “What? No, it was. It must be. It’s how they got the tetanus into her system. The paws stink of disinfectant.”

“Smart idea. I thought the same when I saw the scratches on her arm, but it’s too random and too clever for the brother.”

“He could have murdered his sister for her money. Or for the cat.”

“Did he, though?”

Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “Didn’t he?”

“No. It was revenge.” Neil scoffed.

“Revenge? Who wanted revenge?”

This time, Minyard grinned. “Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sister’s jokes, week in, week out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough, fell out with her badly. It’s all on the website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to this certain lifestyle, didn't want out.”

“What about the disinfectant, then, on the cat’s claws?”

Minyard looked pleased by Neil whether he was wrong or right in this situation. “Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. _You_ smell of disinfectant now. So the cat doesn’t come into it.” Neil sniffed his sleeve and frowned. “Raoul’s internet records do, though." He concluded. "Cars parked just up the road.” Neil rolled his eyes. When he finally thought he was onto something, it turned out he wasn’t. He felt mildly disappointed.

 

 

Andrew walked into the main office brandishing a folder at Wymack who seemed to have awoken from his nap and escaped to do more work in the precinct. He wouldn't say he was in a rush, but he was. They had only one hour before the bomb went off. “Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince’s houseboy. Second autopsy showed it wasn’t tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince – it was botulinum toxin.” He put the folder on the desk and Wymack reached for it. “We’ve been here before. Carl Powers? Our bomber’s repeated himself.”

“So how’d he do it?”

“Botox injection.”

“Botox?”

“Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul’s internet purchases.” He pointed to the folder. “He’s been bulk ordering Botox for months.” Josten stared at Andrew with an angry pout. “Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose.” Andrew continued.

“You sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“All right – my office.”

Andrew was going to move but Josten stopped him. “How long?”

“How long what?” Andrew asked.

“How long have you known?”

“Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake. I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don’t you see? We’re one up on him.” Andrew huffed and Neil frowned.

Shortly afterwards, Andrew was sitting at Wymack’s desk phone in hand. Wymack and Josten were outside, talking about who knew what. He texted the bomber the information about Raoul de Santos and then the phone began to ring. He picked it up.

“Hello?” Andrew said.

“Help me.” The old woman sobbed.

Andrew straightened up. “Tell us where you are. Address.”

“He was so... His voice.” The woman said quietly and slowly.

“No. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing. Tell me where you are.”

“He sounded so... soft.” There was a loud static noise and the phone disconnected.

“Hello?” Andrew stood up.

Wymack entered the room and saw Andrew’s expression. “Minyard?” He asked.

Josten was there, Andrew noted, because he heard him say, “What’s happened?” from the room over.

Andrew lowered the phone from his ear. He bit his lip as Wymack swore, realizing that something must have happened. Josten straightened up once he realised the tension between both males once entering the room.

They were too late.

 

 

The next morning, they were back home. Andrew held the pink phone in hand and rested on the couch, tired. While Josten was on the other end, sleeping.

On the TV, the news was on and it read: _12 Dead In Gas Explosion_. Andrew sighed and slowly closed his eyes, trying to sleep as he watched Josten’s chest rise and fall.

The reporter talked as she showed a close-up of a building many floors up which had been torn open and exposed to the air. “The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company-”

“He killed her when we solved the case.” A mumble interrupted Andrew's thoughts. He turned his head to see that the man next to him wasn’t actually asleep. He had droopy eyes when he looked towards Andrew and his voice was croaky. Hair ruffled in all places, a small yawn escaped his mouth and Andrew hated him so much.

“Well, obviously we lost that round – although technically we did solve the case.” Minyard agreed. Josten raised his eyebrow and was probably still holding a grudge over the case being solved more by Andrew than himself.

“But why?” Josten asked.

“He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organised these things but no one ever has direct contact.” Andrew explained.

“What? Like the Connie Prince murder – he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?” Josten scoffed. “Why didn’t he kill off all the others, then? The victims. If the bomber talked to all of them, and only the woman started talking about him, _yet_ got herself killed because of that... the others could have easily done the same. They aren't strapped to bombs anymore, they survived the incident. They could talk. Why just her?”

Andrew sighed. “We tried to interrogate the survivors, but they wouldn’t say a word. We thought they were just in constant shock, but that’s not quite all true. Yes, they may be in terror from what happened but from what I’ve seen, he’s told them something that wouldn’t make them go to authorities and say who spoke to them and how. This woman, however, she started talking right off the bat. She was blind remember and didn't know any better. So he killed her. No evidence left. That’s why.” Josten cursed to that.

Soon, the TV went to the next issue on the news. This time both boys looked at it with please. The screen showed Raoul de Santos being handcuffed out of Kenny’s house by police officers. The press were there and were shoving each other as they struggled to get close to Raoul, taking photographs while interviewers shouted questions. The headline on the screen read;  _Connie Prince, man arrested_.

Raoul was shoved into the back of a police car with a snarl on his lips and Kenny waving goodbye with a handkerchief and cat in hand. Josten looked towards Andrew, who was looking down at the pink phone.

“Taking his time.” Andrew noted, watching the phone. He should be getting a call anytime soon, he just needed to wait for it. They were so close.

Looking away from the other, Josten cleared his throat. “Anything on Carl Powers?”

“Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection.” Andrew clicked his tongue.

Josten shrugged. “Maybe the killer was older than Carl?”

“The thought had occurred.” Andrew agreed.

“So why’s he doing this, then – playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?” Josten's gaze flickered to Andrew.

“I think he wants to be distracted.”

Josten laughed humorlessly and got out of the sofa with small difficulty, even from just waking up. He headed towards the kitchen to make himself some cereal. Andrew hoped he didn’t finish the Coco Puffs this time round, but knowing Josten, the cereal was too sweet for his taste as he mentioned that the last time he tried them. The last time he finished the box. Too much chocolate, he had said. Nothing had too much chocolate. He had finished his goddamn cereal and didn't even appreciate it. Threw it right in the bin. Fucking waste.

Josten was the type that preferred the healthier kind of cereal, Andrew bet on his life that Raisin Bran was his favourite. Fucking. Junkie.

“Well I hope you two will be very happy together.” Josten mumbled as he poured in the milk over his Cheerios. Andrew mentally noted to get Raisin Bran.

Andrew's phone texted an alert before he could answer. He opened it quickly and heard the two beeps vividly followed by a photograph again. This time, a river bank. “View of the Thames. South Bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo.” Andrew mumbled to himself as Josten was engaged in his cereal and looked at nothing but the wall. He searched for any news on that specific location and looked through all the articles until he found a report from the Waterloo area, giving tide times, police reports and other information. But nothing had come up. He looked exasperated when he still found no helpful information in the report section. He decided to hit Wymack’s cell and waited for the rings to stop, and for the older man to pick up.

He finally did.

“It’s me. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and Southwark Bridge?”

 

 

Half an hour later, Wymack gave them the information they needed, and so Minyard went right to the scene with a tired Neil behind. He didn’t know why he was exhausted, he was probably mentally stressed somehow. When they arrived on the south bank of the River Thames, the tide had receded and a body of a large man wearing everything but shoes was covered on the beach for all to see.

The police and forensics officers worked at the scene when Neil and Minyard came in. Already putting on some latex gloves, Minyard went right for the body.

“Do you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?” Neil asked him as he followed.

“Must be. Odd, though because he hasn’t been in touch.”

“But we must assume that some poor dude is primed to explode, yeah?” Wymack added.

“Yes.” Minyard stepped back and looked over at the body lying on it's back.

Wymack waited for a while and Neil flicked his gaze between both men. “Any ideas?” Wymack finally asked after little to no patience.

“Seven so far.” Minyard said dully.

Wymack choked out, “Seven?”

Minyard walked closer to the body and squatted down to examine the man’s face closely. He looked at the ripped pocket on the shirt before working his way downwards until he reached the man’s feet. He pulled off one of the socks and examined the sole of the foot. Standing up, he looked across to Neil and jerked his head down towards the body in a mute order to take his place.

Neil sighed but complied. He squatted down beside the dead body, reached out to take hold of the man’s wrist while Minyard walked a few paces away to get out his phone.

“He’s dead for about twenty-four hours, maybe a bit longer.” Neil said looking to the coagulated blood, and then to Wymack. “Did he drown?”

“Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.”

Neil hummed. “Looks like it. There’s quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises here and here.” He pointed to certain parts of the body close to his face. “He’s in his late thirties, I’d say. Not in the best condition.”

Minyard came back shortly after. “He’s been in the river a long while. The water’s destroyed most of the data. But I’ll tell you one thing, that lost Vermeer painting’s a fake.”

“The what?”

Minyard seemed to ignore him and Neil didn’t know what he was on about. What painting? “We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates-”

“Wait, wait, wait. What painting? What are you on about, Minyard?” Wymack stopped him short.

Minyard sighed. “It’s all over the place. Haven’t you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago and now it’s turned up. Worth forty million pounds.”

“Okay. So... what has that got to do with the stiff?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just about everything. Have you ever heard of the Golem?” Minyard grinned.

Wymack probably looked even more confused than he was prior to be. “Golem?”

Neil nodded. “It’s a horror story, isn’t it? I know a little about it, but what are you implying?”

“Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of clay. It’s also the name of an assassin – real name Oskar Dzundza – one of the deadliest assassins in the world.” Andrew said and pointed down at the body. “That is his trademark style.”

Wymack didn’t believe anything. “So this is a hit?”

“Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands.” Minyard said calmly.

Wymack scoffed. “But what has this got to do with that painting? I don’t see.”

“What do we know about this corpse? The killer’s not left us with much, just the shirt and the trousers. They’re pretty formal, maybe he was going out for the night. But the trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty. Same as the shirt, it's cheap. They’re both too big for him, so it could be some kind of uniform. Meaning he's dressed for work, then. What kind of work? There’s a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie.” Minyard said quickly and both both stared at him.

“What about a tube driver?” Wymack asked at the same time Neil said, “Could be a security guard?”

Minyard threw them both a look. “Josten’s is more likely. That’ll be borne out by his backside.” No comment from either, so Minyard elaborated. “You’d think that he’d led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard’s looking good. And the watch helps, too. The alarm showed he did regular night shifts.”

“Why regular? Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died.” Wymack asked.

“No, the buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied. But there’s something else. The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution.” Minyard took something out of his pocket, a small scrunched-up ball of paper. “Found this on the body. Sodden by the river but still recognizable.”

Neil glared at the scrunched up paper. “Tickets?”

Minyard nodded. “Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check – the Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing.” He pointed to the body. “Alex Woodbridge. Tonight they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? I say it’s inference. The dead man knew something about it – something that would stop the owner getting paid forty million pounds. The picture’s a fake.”

“Show off.” Neil muttered.

“I’d better get my feelers out for this Golem character.” Wymack interfered.

Minyard waved it off. “Pointless. You’ll never find him. But I know a man who can.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

Neil huffed out a breath. 

 

 

The boys got out of Minyard’s car and Neil could tell he was frustrated. He kept on glancing towards the pink phone, tapping his fingers on the wheel and bounced his leg up and down a little too quickly. He was anxious.

“What is it?” Neil asked.

“Why hasn’t he phoned? He’s broken his pattern. Why?” Neil rolled his eyes. Of course. Minyard turned to Neil with the look he usually gave when he found something out. “Waterloo Bridge.”

“What about the Gallery?” Neil said, when Andrew obviously turned a different direction than where they were planning to go.

“Yes. In a bit.”

Neil slumped down in the passenger's seat. “You know, I read something about it back home a couple days ago, a poster board of some sort. The Hickman’s contemporary art is in it, right? So why have they got hold of an Old Master?”

Minyard shrugged. “People say it’s dangerous to jump to conclusions. That they would need more data.”

“Yet we aren’t like people.”

Minyard grinned and then parked the car somewhere near a sort of bridge and building that seemed old and abandoned. Minyard got out of the car and Neil sighed, following suite. There was a railing, and both boys went up a couple steps to where a young woman was sitting on a bench under the bridge. She had a large bag beside her with a handwritten cardboard sign poking out of the top. The sign said:  _Hungry and Homeless_. Neil knew what that felt like in some way. More or less, he did have money but didn’t use it for anything but plane tickets, food, everything for a new identity and anything of the importance. Everything else did not matter.

“Change? Any change?” The girl called out.

Minyard walked up to her. “What for?”

“Cup of tea, of course.”

The girl smiled when Minyard handed her a piece of paper. “Here you go – fifty.” He lied.

“Oh thanks.” She winked.

Minyard immediately turned to walk away. Neil didn’t know what went on, and looked at him in bewilderment. “What was that?”

Another shrug. “Investing.” Neil just stared at the whole ordeal in confusion and looked back to see the girl read the paper with a smug look.

“So now we head to the Gallery?” Neil wondered.

They arrived to the car shortly after and Minyard declared, “Actually, I have a job for you, Josten.”  

 

 

Where Minyard dropped Neil off was not the Gallery.

Yep, it was certainly not the gallery.

Minyard had to make him do this again, interview, investigate, communicate. And two tasks to handle on top of that.

It was Alex Woodbridge’s home it seemed, and Neil asked the woman who answered the door if he could ask a few questions for a news report on Alex's death. Without hesitation, she led him into a small tiny attic that served as Alex’s bedroom. It was messy with clothes scattered everywhere and the window in the canted ceiling looked up into the sky. Standing below it was a large object covered with a sheet.

“We’d been sharing a house for about a year. Just sharing.” The woman said. Neil hummed and pretended to write things down on his notes when in reality he was doodling anything that came to head. The woman - who introduced herself as Julie - gestured around the room for him to explore. Neil looked around, not touching anything but observing every detail of the bedroom. He looked at the sheet-covered object and pointed to it. “May I?”

Julie shrugged. “Yeah, guess so.” Neil lifted the sheet and a telescope on a tripod was under it. He raised his eyebrows.

“Was he a stargazer?”

“God, yeah. Mad about it. It’s all he ever did in his spare time.” She laughed but then looked away sadly. Grief, Neil could tell. Grief and sadness from a loss. “He was a nice guy, Alex. I liked him. But he was never much one for hoovering.” A nervous chuckle escaped her mouth and Neil tried to smile at her in comfort.

“What about art? Did he know anything about that?”

“It was just a job, you know?” She tried not to tear up. Neil hummed again, then bent down and peered at the item on the bedside table, taking some and observing them. However they were just regular objects it seemed, simple trinkets in an average bedroom. Candles, books, souvenirs. Boring stuff.

Neil then opened the drawer and papers of sketches were inside. “Has anyone else been asking about Alex?”

“No. We had a break-in, though.” This intrigued Neil.

“When?” He straightened up.

Julie looked confused. “Last night. There was nothing taken. Oh – there was a message left for Alex on the landline however.” Neil thought it would be wise if he found out more about the call. Seemed important. He just needed to find out a way to ask without seeming suspicious or impose on the woman.

“Who was it from?”

“Well, I can play it for you if you like. I’ll get the phone.” Or it was that easy.

Julie went out of the room briefly and came back with the phone, playing the message. It was woman’s voice. “Oh, should I speak now? Alex? Love, it’s Professor Cairns. Listen, you were right. You were bloody right! Give us a call when-” Then the message ended.

Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “Who’s professor Cairns?”

She shrugged. “No idea, sorry.”

“Hm. Can I try and ring back?”

“Well, no good. I mean, I’ve had other calls since – sympathy ones, you know.” Neil nodded, allowing her to stop there. He said his goodbye's to Julie, along with his condolences before leaving the building and heading off to his next task. Minyard was lucky that Neil had enough spare change for a bus ride there. And a couple more after that.

 

 

An elegantly dressed woman walked into the large room which was displaying the Vermeer painting. The  _fake_  painting actually. There was no other artwork or furniture of any kind in the white room, just a path to the so-called picture itself. Andrew saw her come forward so he fixed his cap slightly and the buttons of his shirt. The woman raised an eyebrow towards him. “You’re a security guard aren’t you? Don’t you have something to do?” She said and Andrew guessed he nailed the ensemble.

He shrugged. “Just admiring the view.”

“Yes. Lovely. Now get back to work. We open tonight.” She waved him off and Andrew started walking away from the room. But decided to be dramatic, and slowly turn his head over his shoulder, towards the woman who tried to watch him leave.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He asked.

She looked somewhat insulted. “What?”

“That the painting’s a fake.”

This time it was anger. “What?”

Andrew turned around and walked closer to her. “It’s a fake. It has to be. It’s the only possible explanation.” The he stared at her I.D badge to where it said: Ms. Wenceslas. Complicated name.

“You’re in charge, aren’t you, Miss Wencelass?” Mispronouncing her name slightly on purpose. Seemed to irritate her at least, so he’d call it a win.

“Who are you?” She demanded.

“Alex Woodbridge knew that the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?” He narrowed his eyes and Wenceslas narrowed hers.

“Golem? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?”

“It’s not a fake.” She argued.

Andrew looked at her sternly. “It is a fake. Don’t know why, but there’s something wrong with it. There has to be.” He straightened his armbands. How she didn’t notice anything strange about that, Andrew didn’t know.

“What the hell are you on about? You know, I could have you fired on the spot.” Her lip twitched.

“Not a problem for me.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice.” Andrew shrugged. That part was evident, and he didn’t want to blow his cover all just yet but this woman gave him the best opportunity to come out and say she just got owned by a mere grumpy blond midget. She didn’t look pleased by that either way, though. Not the reaction Andrew was hoping for. He wanted there to be more laughter over the jokes he was pulling here. Tough crowd.

Yet she still looked insulted and constipated. “How did you get in?”

“How boring.” Andrew said.

“I want to know.” Wenceslas shouted.

“The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight.” Andrew muttered to himself and began to walk away, taking off the fake security cap. He was bored. Maybe something new came up elsewhere because this woman was a waste of time and oxygen.

He wondered how Josten was doing with his part of the job - important part that was. Josten needed to know how to handle shit on his own. It would have been easier if Andrew were by his side, but Andrew should let him interview and investigate, to get the hang of it all. Maybe because Josten should feel better about himself when he deducted or found something out, instead of thinking he was wrong all the time, or if his opinions and findings were valid enough. Which was usually not the case when Andrew looked over it closely, Josten was hardly ever wrong. He was misguided at times, but the direction was always right. Andrew didn’t say it much, to anybody and neither himself, but Josten was smart and he did damn well on a case. He just needed the extra push when it came to people and observing the case at hand, to be able to understand what a certain person did that day or how they would act in a certain situation. Maybe Andrew was slightly proud of his friend for everything he did so far. Maybe. Slightly. Perhaps.

“Who are you?” Wenceslas demanded, breaking Andrew’s concentration.

Andrew smiled her way as condescendingly as he could. “Andrew Minyard.” He then dropped the cap onto the top of one of the railing posts that surrounded the fake painting and continued walking towards the exit.

Wenceslas laughed. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Another shrug. “You should be.” Then he closed the doors behind him and left.

 

 

Josten reached his next location. This time it was more Minyard’s task for him than an actual task for the case itself. So here he was, sitting on the sofa beside Adam West’s fiancée - Lucy Harrison. She greeted him in and asked if he was associated with Aaron. Neil just nodded because technically, in a way, he was. He just wasn’t Minyard, even with this being Minyard’s job.

She prepared him a cup of tea, which Neil took hesitantly but thanked her and took a sip. It was sweet, but he gulped it down anyways. Lucy though, seemed rather agitated and sad when she sat down on the adjacent sofa from Neil. He wouldn’t say he felt uncomfortable from her presence, but he just didn’t know what to say. His notes were almost all filled with doodles and specific words at this point and taking it out would only make it more awkward.

“He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t, you know?” She finally said and held Neil’s hands in hers when he put the cup down. Neil stared in surprise at the action and looked down at her hands cupped around his. Sympathetically, it would be comfort for her but Neil still felt itchy about being touched.

He blinked. “Well, stranger things have happened.”

“Westie wasn’t a traitor. It’s a horrible thing to say.” Neil heard a croak in her voice and he nodded.

“I’m sorry, but you must understand that’s-”

Lucy gripped his hands tighter and stared at Neil with wide eyes. “That’s what they think, isn’t it, his bosses?”

Neil tried to move away but she was persistent. “He was a young man, about to get married. He had debts.”

Her face changed and she looked sarcastic than the worried or sad individual she just currently was. “Everyone’s got debts, and Westie wouldn’t wanna clear them by selling out his country.” She said.

“Can you,” Neil thought she may be crazy. “Can you tell me exactly what happened that night?”

“We were having a night in, just watching a DVD.” She smiled at the memory, Sarcastic Lucy was gone and so was Weeping Lucy apparently. Happy Lucy was here and hopefully to stay because Neil didn’t want to know who was next. “He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet.” Well fuck, Weeping Lucy was back as she started to tear up again. “Out of the blue, he said he just had to go and see someone.”

Neil had to shake out of his thoughts. “And you’ve no idea who?” Shaking her head, she let go of Neil hands and took them to her face, hiding her tears that were bursting out. Fuck. Neil didn't understand women. He wished he did, but he couldn't.

Once their little chit-chat was over, Happy Lucy was back and she showed Neil out with smiles and waved at him goodbye.

All they talked about was what she did with Westie throughout the years and their bonded love for each other. Nothing of importance and Neil was glad when it was over. Though just as he exited, he bumped into a man who was wheeling his bike into their lawn. He was about to say something to Neil, but quickly ignored him when he saw Lucy, pushing him aside to get a hug from the woman. Neil furrowed his eyebrows at the two people. He was hella confused.

“Oh, hi, Luce. You okay, love?” He said, cheerfully.

“Yeah.” She nodded.

Then he side-eyed Neil. “Who’s this?”

Neil stepped forwards instead, because he never actually told his name to Lucy or introduced himself. She just trusted him straight away. Maybe this was why Adam West was dead. “Neil Josten. Hi.”

“Oh, that’s such a sweet name. I want to name my child Neil, Joe. If only Adam was here.” She was sad again, then happy. She turned to the man. “This is my brother, Joe. Neil’s been trying to find out what happened to Westie.” She told him.

Joe looked up and down at Neil, scowling. “You with the police?”

“Sort of.” Wasn’t a lie.

“Well, tell them to get off their asses, will you? It’s bloody ridiculous.” He glared at Neil, a dark look passing over his face.

Neil looked at him like the man told him raccoons were just weaker pandas who didn’t make the cut. “I’ll do my best.” He said slowly.

Joe’s emotion turned as quickly as Lucy’s did and he nodded happily. Must have run in the family. He turned to put a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder for a moment before wheeling his bike inside the house, disappearing from view. What the fuck had just happened. Neil cleared his throat and looked towards Lucy.

“Well, thanks very much for your help, and again, I’m sorry about your loss. Have a good day.” He quickly left the scene but Lucy called after him.

“He didn’t steal those things, Mr. Josten.” Neil craned his neck to look at her. “I knew Westie. He was a good man. He was my good man.” Then more tears came from her and Neil walked away, not wanting to get involved in this anymore.

 

 

Neil took a deep sigh when he found himself near 221B, the bus stop was blocks away from the apartment and Neil was just tired. Yeah, he could probably walk across a whole country just to get out of a situation but maybe he was lacking the effort these days. His mother would kill him if she knew he thought that.

Right in front of the house, he found Minyard slouched against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth and the homeless girl they found earlier, casually sitting a few meters away from him. She shouted for change and kept getting ignored. Minyard saw Neil and smirked.

“Alex Woodbridge didn’t know anything special about art.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?”

“No. He was an amateur astronomer, and now that’s it. Apparently kind but people always say that about their friends.”

Andrew finished his cigarette and walked towards the homeless chick.

“Spare change, sir?” She asked.

“Don’t mind if I do.” The girl handed Minyard a piece of paper, the same exchange as before and Neil raised yet another eyebrow. They walked away from her and towards Minyard’s car, not the house. It was late, Neil noted. He wasn’t whining but he just didn’t know what else there was to do.

Unfolding it, Minyard read the paper when they were a good distance away from the woman and then passed it to Josten. It had written: _Vauxhall Arches_  on it. Neil didn’t know if this was a place or a person of what.

Well, it was a place. Neil could see that for himself when they arrived to Vauxhall. They walked in and Minyard subtlety looked towards Neil whenever he got the chance which wasn’t so subtle because Neil could blatantly see him. He was waiting for something from the male.

“Listen, Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat – a Professor Cairns?” Neil said if it would stop Minyard from staring.

“This way.” He said in response and Neil mouth opened slightly before he followed.

It was a weird place. Not a building, but it was a sort of building. Neil remembered being somewhere similar to this though. On cold winter nights. And here they were, somehow at a homeless shelter that went through all the tunnels of the on-ground sewers. Beams picked out homeless people all around the place which could also resolve his theory, most of them settling down for the night. In the distance, the shadow of a man showed on the wall and Neil wondered why he looked so damn tall.

“Wow. Nice part of town. Maybe you have time to explain why?” Neil asked.

“Homeless network – really is indispensable.”

They both were lucky Neil kept small flashlights in his pockets. “Homeless network?” He clicked it on.

“My eyes and ears all over the city.”

“Oh, that’s clever.” Neil said without interest and lit the light towards some homeless people who groaned. He quietly apologised, but they probably didn’t hear him. Neil passed the second flashlight to Minyard who caught it in reflex. Obviously Neil had two to spare in case the other died. And here Minyard told him he was never prepared for shit.

They ducked to the side of a wall and Neil wondered if that tall man’s shadow was following them because it appeared to be everywhere they went but never in view, only the shadow itself was seen. 

“Why are we here?”

“It’s where the Golem usually comes round.”

“What’s he doing sleeping rough?”

“Well, he has a very distinctive look. He has to hide somewhere where people won’t move or talk much. He’s a pretty tall individual.” Neil then realised what the shadow could mean and swore, starting to walk down towards the last area of sight. Minyard noticed this of course and followed. The shadow was seen to be a freakishly tall man. It must have been over seven feet which was two more then both of the boys.

Neil didn’t get clear view of it though, because the tall man broke into a run and hurried away down another tunnel. The boys chased him across until they reached the end of the tunnel, just in time to see him climbing into a waiting black car which sped off immediately. The vehicle made a powerful sound, humminh into Neil’s ears. There was a frustrated look on Minyard's face when he turned around. “Fuck. It’ll take us weeks to find him again.”

“Or not. I have an idea where he might be going.” Neil shrugged and Minyard turned quickly his way.

“What?”

“I told you, someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There can’t be that many Professor Cairns in the book. I checked it when I had the conversation with Lucy To-Be-West, she told me she used to work at the place when she mentioned her life with Adam. Though I barely remembered it through the conversation we had... But I know for a fact it's the same Cairns. It was just a high coincidence. The professor works at the Planetarium. In her message, it seemed like she knew about Alex's findings. She could be his next victim.” Neil smirked. Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Impressed?” He asked.

“Impressed.” Andrew confirmed.

 

 

Professor Cairns was alone in the planetarium’s theater, flicking through the presentation slides on the grand projectile screen when both of the boys paid her a visit. They didn’t so step in right away and more-or-less hid behind the chairs in waiting for the Golem to appear. Andrew tapped his foot to the rhythm of the presentation’s soft music and Josten fiddled with his sweater strings in boredom. The narrator spoke in a soothing voice that almost left both boys into slumber. Andrew wondered how Cairns went through this daily. Throughout many minutes, Cairns fast forwarded to different sections of the presentation, mumbling dumb things under her breath at each one.

That was when a door banged shut in the room and it caught the attention of all three individuals.

“Tom? Is that you?” Cairns called out and Andrew looked towards Josten who stared back. They both stood up in a swift motion and watched as a large figure clamped one hand over Cairns mouth, pulling her backwards onto the stage. She tried to claw at the large hand, crying out in muffled panic. The Golem was beginning to suffocate her. It was the same shadow they saw, however as a person. He was a tall, lanky but strong individual who had hands twice the regular size. His head was shaven, and slightly sushed together in a way that made him unappealing.

Josten was there faster than Andrew was. He leaped over layers of chairs from the theater and punched Golem out of the way which made him grunt slightly and step backwards only a foot away. Josten shook his fist in pain, and Andrew cursed when he saw Josten’s bloody knuckles. Proof that this guy was rather strong, sturdy and fucking iron. Andrew maybe thought it would be easier if they used the pistol he kept in his pocket for this particular reason. Knives wouldn't do much on the thick skin the taller and bigger male had.

“Hey fuckass.” Andrew lifted to gun when Golem was moving towards Josten. He let go of Cairns, dropping her to the floor and immediately looked up towards Andrew with a grunt. Cairns seemed dead, body limp on the ground. Andrew swore under his breath.

The Golem moved out of sight as the lights were dimly lit and made the room rather difficult to see. Before Andrew knew it, Golem stepped out of the fluctuating darkness and clamped one hand around his mouth and nose while gripping his neck with the other. Andrew grabbed at the hand on his face, trying to pull himself free. Gun dropped to the side, away from both of the men.

Elbowing him in the stomach, Andrew realised it would only leave bruises. It did not effect the taller man, however. Andrew may have been strong, but the bigger man was stronger. Josten noticed this and his eyes went wide, he didn’t care about his pained hand as he raced over and took the gun Andrew dropped.

Josten looked towards Golem with the gun pointed at the bigger man's head. They stared at each other with Andrew in between. “Let him go, or I swear I will kill you.” Josten said and his voice sounded mad and raspy. He would have pulled the trigger.

The Golem grunted and went after Josten’s gun instead, letting Andrew go. After a few punches and blows from the two, Andrew got to his feet. However seconds later, the Golem threw Josten into him, sending both of the boys tumbling to the floor. Their heads collided and they both groaned, staring at each other from how they were laid. Josten scrambled up quickly, apologizing for nothing and was faced back with Golem.

He sucked in a breath and held up clenched fists. He swung a punch at the tall freaky man but the latter grabbed his hand and swung his body onto Andrew’s shoulder, dropping Andrew to the floor yet again. What the _fuck_ , Andrew grunted.

The Golem followed Josten down and clamped both hands over his face, leaning his weight onto the giant boulders called hands. Josten struggled, his mouth covered as his eyes widened.

Angrily, Andrew kicked Golem off the male, heavily sending him to the ground. It was satisfying to say the least.

Then there was Josten again, trying to grab the gun from the floor before he was kicked off to the side, sliding across the theater floor. As Josten groggily tried to get up, Andrew took the opportunity to grab the pistol and managed to pick it up in time before the Golem got to him. That’s when the beast ran towards the door. Andrew fired twice towards him but the Golem made it to the doors in time and disappeared before he could have been shot. 

Andrew angrily slammed the gun down on the floor in front of him and cursed. Josten grunted and Andrew looked to him from the ground, both panting and wondering what the fuck just happened.

 

 

Their injuries weren’t as bad when they went into the car, minus their bruised, stiff bodies and bloodied knuckles, and their dusty clothes from scuffling on the floor. Josten and Andrew both didn’t talk much of the incident and just silently stared into their own space. Josten peering out the passenger’s window and Andrew looking at the traffic ahead which lighted up the dark road nicely. They didn’t have time to go home and now that Andrew had Josten with him, he had enough time to head to the Gallery and solve everything once and for all.

So here they stood in front of the Vermeer painting, Andrew tilted his chin and behind him were a distressed Wymack, tired Josten and an angry looking Wenceslas.

“It’s a fake. It has to be.” He said for about the sixth time this visit.

“That painting has been subjected to every test known to science.” Wenceslas studied Andrew, and raised an angry eyebrow. Andrew didn’t care for her. Why was she here anyways?

“It’s a very good fake, then.” Andrew retorted, glaring at her instead. “You know about this, don’t you? This is you, isn’t it?”

Wenceslas turned to Wymack, looking exasperated. “Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?” Before Wymack could speak, they all got startled when the pink phone rang and Andrew immediately put it on speaker.

“The painting is a fake.” He said rather too quickly. There was a faint sound of breathing over the speaker but otherwise, no response. “It’s a fake. That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed.” Still nothing. “Oh, come on. Proving is just the detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it. I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake. That’s the answer. That’s why they were killed.” When the phone remained silent, Andrew took a deep breath to calm himself. “Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?”

After a moment, the tremulous voice of a very young boy came over the phone’s speaker. Andrew cursed wildly. The boy started to count down from ten, slowly. Instantly Andrew spun and looked closely at the painting.

Wymack swore loudly. “It’s a kid. Oh, fuck, it’s a kid.”

“It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time. Now fucking shut up.” Andrew snarled and observed the painting again when the boy reached eight. “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?” Andrew angrily turned to Wenceslas. “This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me now.” Wenceslas flinched and opened her mouth, but Andrew immediately held up his hand to stop her. He didn’t care. He had seven seconds. Wenceslas looked like she had a lot to say. 

“Nobody say _anything_. It will only work if I get complete silence.” Then his mind went haywire and he could sense something coming up. But it wasn’t the answer. It was panic. He told himself it shouldn’t happen now, not now.

He muttered to himself to make him concentrated. Closing his eyes, Andrew muttered, “Woodbridge knew, but how?” There was silence except the boy counting down. He got to four and everyone around Andrew was panicking, minus Josten who simply looked to Andrew silently, with a look that Andrew wished he could concentrate on. It was hope, a silent cheer that Andrew kept in the side of his mind while he concentrated.

Then Andrew’s gaze fell on three tiny white dots of paint in the night sky. His mouth fell open as the penny finally dropped and he smirked. “In the planetarium. The presentation. Knew that soft voice sounded familiar.” Andrew seemed almost happy. Almost. Turning to grab the pink phone, the boy was at two.

“The Van Buren Supernova.” He said then the boy’s voice came from the speaker but it wasn’t the count down.

“Is somebody there?” He said in a whisper, a fearful whisper. “Somebody please help me.” He started to sob. Wymack let out a sigh of relief or anger. Andrew turned to him.

“There you go. Go find out where he is and pick him up.”

Then Andrew gave Josten a long look, who titled his head in confusion. Andrew pointed to one of the dots in the sky of the painting. “The Van Buren Supernova. Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in eighteen fifty-eight.” He turned to Wenceslas with a smug look. “So how could it have been painted in the sixteen forties?”

Josten grinned and Wenceslas stared at the painting in shock. Andrew walked away from the scene, letting a shaky breath escape him and not letting the others see his collapse. Too close, he whispered to himself and for no one else to hear.

 

 

The bomb team helped the little kid and a rush of relief washed over everyone’s face in the premises of the building. Andrew was tired, Josten was as well. Andrew told him that he could wait outside the precinct while Andrew dealt with Wenceslas and Wymack. So here he was, sitting side by side in front of Wymack’s desk while the inspector sat in front. Andrew had rested his hands under his chin and sighed.

“You know, it’s interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?” She looked at the floor as if it had grown arms and legs and didn't respond. Andrew ignored her and looked to Wymack. “What are we looking at, Inspector?”

Wymack gazed at him thoughtfully. “Well, criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least. The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats.”

“I didn’t know anything about that! All those things! Please believe me.” Wenceslas cried out in panic and continued to stare at Wymack like he was her last hope. She had given up on Andrew it seemed.

"Don't talk, I hate that word." Andrew said. Wymack coughed and Andrew sighed, giving Wymack a small effortless nod to confirm that she was telling the truth at least. Because she was, she wasn’t the mastermind to all of this. Andrew just wondered who it really was.

“I just wanted my share – the thirty million.” She looked this time to Andrew, but then sighed and lowered her head yet. “I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius. I mean, really, brushwork immaculate, could fool anyone.” She continued. Andrew hummed sarcastically. Wenceslas almost rolled her eyes but probably didn’t consider her situation. “Well, nearly anyone.” She corrected, then turning to Wymack. “But I didn’t know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an idea – a spark which he blew into a flame.”

“Who?” Andrew asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Wymack let out a disbelieving laugh. “It’s true! I mean, it took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with people, his people. They were important, well known for something that could only be a cover up for more.” Andrew straightened up in his chair, becoming more attentive to the situation. “Well, there was never any real contact, just messages and whispers and sometimes threats.”

“And did those whispers have a name?” Andrew asked with intent.

She gazed ahead of herself for a moment, then looked across to Wymack with an anxious look, this lasted for a couple minutes until Wenceslas looked back to Andrew.

“Moriyama.”

 

 

Neil gave up on waiting for Minyard, he said he would only be ten minutes but that was two hours ago. What was so important that it had to be two fucking hours long? Of course, he wouldn’t be too far, a walking distance away but he still felt inclined to do something. So he decided to walk along the railway lines and eventually, the Tube Guard - who found Adam West’s body - joined him because he had to work across the railway at the same time.

Neil didn’t know if he wanted Neil to be there or not because he just looked towards Neil briefly at every chance he got. All the while Neil simply looked to see if any evidence could be displayed on the tracks.

Eventually, after a lot of staring, Neil had enough of the dude looking at him, so he asked, “Hey. So this is where West was found?” Wondering if he could get any more notes on the case.

The guard hummed. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.” Neil said, kicking his feet on the train lines, seeming to regret trying to start a conversation.

“You gonna be long?” Well then, that settled the question, the guard didn’t want him to be here.

“I might be.” Neil said snarkily.

Didn’t seem to go well with the Tube Dude. “You with the police, then?”

“Sort of.”

The guard just glared at Neil. “I hate them.”

“The police?”

“No. Jumpers.” Neil stared at him. The Tude Dude sighed deeply and dramatically. “People who chuck themselves in front of trains. You know. Selfish bastards.”

Neil said nothing because he didn’t know what to say. So he squatted down to look more closely at the railway track so it looked like he had something to do. And maybe it would have some relevance.

The Tube Dude happened to be having a bad day, because he started to rant to Neil. Didn’t he just want him to go away a couple minutes ago? “I mean it. It’s all right for them. It’s over in a split second – strawberry jam all over the lines. What about the drivers, hmm? They’ve gotta live with it, haven’t they?”

Neil hummed and ran his fingers along the track, then lifted his hand to look at it. “Yeah, speaking of strawberry jam, there’s no blood on the line. Has it been cleaned off?”

“No, there wasn’t that much.” Tube Dude explained.

“But you said his head was smashed in.” Neil raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it was, but there wasn’t much blood.”

“Okay.” Neil said confused.

“Well, if you won’t leave, I’ll leave you to it then.” The Tube Dude told Neil, who nodded watching the other male walk a few yards further down the line. “Just give us a shout when you’re off!” He called out.

“Right.” Neil told him and went back to business, shrugging off that whole ordeal and focused on the task at hand. So Adam West got on the train somewhere here – or that was what everyone was saying. But did he? There was no ticket on the body. Then how did he end up here? Why wasn’t there much blood?

“If I was a normal person, I would've panicked about you not being where I told you to meet me.” Neil jumped at the voice from behind him and Minyard was leaning down, observing the tracks with him. Neil swore. More or less because he was too focused, not hearing him having approached. Fuck Minyard for being quiet in his footwork. “Knew you’d get here eventually, it was close by from the precinct. But West wasn’t killed here, that’s why there was so little blood.” Minyard said and Neil gazed his way.

“How long have you been here?” Neil tilted his head.

He seemed shaken down, and Neil wondered what happened at the precinct for that to have happened. Minyard shrugged either way and said, “Since your conversation with the irrelevant worker over there. You don’t think I’d give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you? And I won’t let you solve this one on your own just because I asked you too. You would probably freak out about it.”

They started to walk away from the scene which would hold no purpose. “Would not.” Neil muttered.

“We both know that’s a lie. Now, come on Josten. We got a bit of burglary to do.”

 

 

Apparently Minyard stopped by the doughnut store on the way to... somewhere. Wherever that was. Neil felt accustomed to it, so not knowing where they were going was not surprising him anymore.

Either way, Neil didn’t understand what Minyard meant by burglary but in the end, did he really want to know? Every time he asked, Minyard would just narrow his eyes and eat a piece of his sprinkled doughnut. Diabetes must await Minyard one of these days. Neil was sure of it.

“The missile defence plans haven’t left the country, otherwise Aaron’s people would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have a Secret Service.” He said.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve met them.” Neil muttered and Minyard raised an eyebrow.

“Which means whoever stole the memory stick can’t sell it or doesn’t know what to do with it. My money’s on the latter.” Minyard stopped at a small rustic apartment. “Oh, we’re here.”

“Where?”

Minyard just trotted up the steps located at the side of the building which led to the front door of flat, labeled room 202A. As Minyard rummaged in his pocket, Neil looked around skeptically. “What if there’s someone in?”

“There isn’t.” He said flatly and then gave Neil a hair clip. What was he supposed to do with that? “Said you were good with locks, this is where you come in.”

Oh. That was what he needed, of course.

With a sigh, Neil took the clip unhappily and begun unlocking the door. Once he was finished in seconds, they both went inside, shutting the door behind them. They both headed up a short flight of stairs, coming face to face into a living room. “Where are we, anyways?”

“Oh, didn’t I say? Joe Harrison’s flat.” Neil recognised the name, then it hit him. Lucy's brother. Adam West’s fiance’s brother. Adam West's... brother-in-law? Sort of? He wondered why the hell they were here and why Neil had to be associated with any of them every again. It couldn’t mean that Joe… did he kill Adam? Neil wouldn't be surprised.

Minyard went straight over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The sight which greeted him outside consisted of a roof which could be easily climbed upon. The extension went all the way until they could see the bottom of the apartment's garden, and further along they could make out the railway line.

“He stole the memory stick, killed his brother-in-law.” Minyard explained, examining the edge of the window sill.

“Then why did he do it?” Neil knew there was something fishy about Joe but it never occurred to him that it was murder. Maybe that was why he seemed worried about Neil being part of the police force. They both straightened up and turned at the sound of someone unlocking the front door.

Minyard held a smug look and said, “Let’s ask him.”

He then walked quietly to the door of the living room and stepped in front of Joe as he was just entering his iconic bike. He gasped when he saw Minyard, picking up the bike as if he intended to use it as a weapon or simply to throw it at him. Neil snickered because what could a bike do against Andrew Minyard. For a moment Joe kept coming at Minyard with the bike, Minyard simply stared at him, then kicked Joe’s leg, making him stumble backwards with a cry. The bike tumbled elsewhere and Joe fell to the floor with a grunt.

“Hello, Joe.” Minyard said, crouching down with a smile. The male grunted in anger. “We just want to talk.”

 

 

“It wasn’t meant to-” Joe paused, looking distressed. He ended up on the living room sofa shortly afterwards through a little bit of fight and struggle, to mutual understanding that neither men would do anything and simply talk it out. Seeing what the situation was currently at, Joe didn't look like he wanted to cause any more violance than he already had done. That part was obvious. So Neil and Minyard stood around him - waiting for his perspective on the story - while Joe tried not to panic. He leaned back, and sighed. “God. What’s Lucy gonna say? Jesus.”

"So why did you kill him?” Neil asked.

“It was an accident.” Neil snorted. Joe glared at him and Neil could tell he wasn’t a big fan ever since they first met. “I swear it was.”

“Stealing the plans for the missile defence program wasn’t an accident, was it?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “I started dealing drugs. I mean, the bike thing’s a great cover, right? I don’t know – I don’t know how it started. I just got out of my dept. I owed people thousands – serious people, bad people. Then at Westie’s engagement party, he started talking about his job. I mean, usually he’s so careful, but that night after a few pints he really opened up. He told me about these missile plans – beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick, he waved it in front of me. You hear about these things getting lost, ending up on rubbish tips and what-not. And there it was, and I thought - well, I thought it could be worth a fortune.” He said and sighed. Greed, Neil noted. Or perhaps envy on how West would be worth more to Lucy than Joe ever was. “It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew. He even told me he knew. I asked him what he was doing here. I was pretty drunk at the time, and quite stressed over him figuring it out. From what would happen if he went to authorities, the gouvernement even. Then he asked me what I did with it. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He said I had the plans and asked the question again.” Joe explained dramatically.

“What happened?” Neil asked.

“We fought. Physically. I shoved Westie by the small landing outside the front door,” He pointed to the window sill. “But, I... He lost his footing I guess. Rolled down the steps, landing heavily on the ground. He was a good man. I was gonna call an ambulance, but it was too late. I ran over to him, his limp - his limp body...” Joe’s face filled with sorrow. “I just didn’t have a clue what to do, so I dragged him in the living room, and I just sat in the dark... thinking.”

“When a neat little idea popped into your head.” Minyard said, sounding intrigued.

Joe stayed quiet for a while which was a first, then continued on his story, “I hauled Westie across to the window, out onto the roof of the building. A train pulled up on the tracks outside, it’s brakes squeaking noisily and then I knew what I had to do. There was a stairwell on the train, leading to the top of it. I laid the body there, settling it into a position along the roof so that it wouldn't easily fall off when the train moved. I looked behind me when I saw the train continuing down the tracks...” Joe smiled, which was quite unsettling.

“Carrying Adam West way away from here, so nobody would have suspected you.” Neil continued for Joe. “His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn’t met a stretch of track that curved. I saw that when I was observing the tracks, how and where the body was placed. That was why the body fell off, wasn't it? To look like a suicide. That was also when Tude Dude found him the next morning.” Minyard looked to him when Neil slipped out the nickname for the Tube Guard. “So. Do you still have it, then? The memory stick?” Joe nodded.

“Fetch it for me.” Minyard waved his hands around, wanting Joe to get the stick.

Joe sighed unhappily, and stood up to get the memory stick in the other room.

“Distraction over, the game continues.” Minyard muttered when Joe was out of earshot.

Neil hopped it wasn’t. “Well, maybe that’s over too. We’ve heard nothing from the bomber.”

“Five ticks, remember Josten? It’s a countdown. We’ve only had four so far.”

 

 

It was around night time when Joe was arrested for his crimes, it went by smoothly as he didn’t struggle. Despite the lack of resistance, on some occasions he laughed over the whole thing and Adam's death. Lucy was contacted right away and started sobbing over another loss.

Andrew and Renee were in the living room in 221B, drinking coffee as they were waiting for the next phone call from the bomber. Andrew heard about the Moriyama’s but he never actually met them or knew who they were despite the many appearances in interviews or Exy games. Nor did Andrew think the big men of Exy themselves had any importance with the bombings. It wasn’t a team effort that was for sure, it had to be one of them only. But who? Who went against the family?

And then there was Josten taking his sweet time. He was supposed to have ordered pizza twenty minutes ago. Renee sipped her coffee in the silence as Andrew sighed, leaning back on the couch, resting his feet on the arms. A cup in one hand, the pink phone in the other. The TV was playing, some sort of ‘ _Are You The Parent Of The Child_?’ type show.

Renee laughed whenever Andrew guessed if they weren’t the child’s father/mother or actually were. He was right every time. It was a dumb show after all, and took only a small glance to deduct the answer. It was always frustrating, because it took them 45 minutes just to do a DNA test and explain the situation. Then more controversy if they were or weren’t the parent. Fighting sometimes happened because it was the friend who hooked up with the other behind their back. Typical. Always the same. Why couldn't they have actual depth to it.

“How did your last case go?” Renee finally asked, after the episode finished.

“Which one?”

“West. Neil told me a little bit about it.”

“You talk often then?”

“I think he’s growing fond of me, don’t you think?” Andrew hummed. It was true, and this should be a good thing. “So, have you given Aaron the memory stick yet?”

“Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood.” He rolled his eyes and Renee chuckled at the sarcasm. Of course Aaron wouldn't be delighted if he had the memory stick. Perhaps slightly pleased that it was retrieved, releived at the most, but he'd hardly show it. He was the type of person that would say, "Good.", and leave it at that. Maybe a thank you if he was feeling good that day.

“Neil’s complaining because you didn’t know the solar system, which could have helped you figure out the painting quicker. Apparently he knew it before you did, just didn’t tell you.” Andrew raised an eyebrow to that.

“And he told you that?”

“As I said, we are growing a bond. I asked why he knew about the solar system, he said it had been a family thing once. Not the painting, but a trade of some sorts.”

“And you are telling me this why?”

“Because the tables have turned, Andrew. Neil’s telling me to pass that message onto you.”

Andrew’s lip quirked a little bit, not a smile but close to one. Neil was a little shit. He did it on purpose because of the way Andrew asked Renee to tell Neil something important. He didn't tell Andrew about the stars because Andrew did the same to him on the Connie Prince test. Fucking idiot, Neil Josten was. Andrew was slightly impressed. He was developing and it was surprising Andrew at every turn.

Then the pink phone chimed and Andrew looked at it instantaneously. It was a text that simply said:  _The Pool. Midnight_.

A location.

Andrew’s eyes widened and he went to grab his coat as the time on the phone read 11:30. He told Renee he may be back and she just hummed, saying it wouldn’t be long before she would leave herself. Andrew trusted her to lock after her departure and ran to his car towards the community pool about a couple streets away, towards the recreation centre. Perhaps this was the last test, and it excited Andrew to an extend and he wondered where the hell Josten was to miss it all. He’d tell him about it later, he would understand.

 

 

Andrew opened a door leading into the area surrounding an indoor swimming pool. The lights were on but there was nobody visible in the area. He walked slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, wondering what he was hoping to see or what would happen to finish off the case. He stopped at the edge of the pool and turned, trying to see up into the viewing gallery. Still nobody.

He fiddled with the memory stick in hand, and knew it had some importance in the whole case. Of course, he didn't give it to Aaron. Aaron, for all he knew, thought the memory stick was burned after Joe took it from him. Wanting no evidence of the murder. 

Some cases led to another, Andrew told himself. All the puzzles, all the tests, it was all to distract Andrew from the biggest secret of them all. The memory stick. Every time he was close enough to figure out the case, he was consumed in the bomber’s little game. It was quite smart, Andrew had to admit, but he ended up solving it in the end. He had the upper hand to all of this.

When his back was turned to the pool, a door opened halfway down the room. Andrew looked over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick in hand and his gaze went dark. It was Josten. He came in slowly, looking distressed and irritated.

He walked closer to Andrew who still hadn’t moved from his spot. Josten was wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. His gaze followed Andrew’s and he tried to smile but it was weak and he seemed more like a deer under headlights than the man he was used to working with.

“Andrew.” He said.

Andrew said nothing and stared at the man in front of him. He looked to the new coat the man was wearing, large but hiding something. Something inside, and Andrew’s stomach turned.

Neil Josten was the fifth test.

“This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Minyard?” Josten said under the influence of another.

“Josten.” Andrew said.

“Bet you never saw this coming.” Josten revealed bombs from under his coat, strapped along his chest. He took a long sigh then sarcastically asked, “What would you like me to make him say next, asshole?” It wasn’t directed towards Andrew, it was directed towards the bomber. Andrew still wondered how fucking Neil Josten got himself into this mess. He was left alone for twenty fucking minutes.

There was silence then Josten sighed deeply, probably ordered on what to say. He closed his eyes temporarily, struggling to say the next few words. “Please, Andrew.” He cringed and pain washed over his face.

Andrew froze and wanted to make this whole thing cease to happen. Whichever this Moriyama was made a fucking grave mistake. “Stop it.” Andrew snarled, Josten seemed to understand it was more directed towards the killer and not himself who had no control over what he did unless he wanted to be the next explosion of the century.

“Nice touch, this. I'm pretty smart. The pool where little Carl died, but you knew that already. I stopped him, my family did.” Josten sucked in a breath. “I can stop Neil Josten too. Stop his heart right here... right now. Like I should have done years ago. He was mine after all.”

“Who are you?” Andrew asked.

Another door opened at the far end of the pool and a male came in. “Andrew Minyard.” He said and Andrew looked over to the male. A Japanese male who had a grin as wide as his fucking ego, it seemed. He was sharply dressed and seemed like he owned millions of money’s worth of children toys, and perhaps his daddy got him a new building blocks to top it all off as well. Andrew heard of Riko Moriyama but he never actually thought he was relevant.

But why would he claim Josten as his? What did Josten have to do in all of this?

Riko casually began to stroll alongside the pool, towards Josten. His steps were clacking against the floor tiles and Josten flinched every time it happened. They seemed to know each other well.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” Riko grinned maniacally. As if breaking from the short spell, Andrew focused on the man at hand and took it from his belt, aiming it towards Riko who just laughed. He didn’t look afraid, nor did he back down. He simply walked closer to Josten.

“Don’t be stupid. Someone else is holding the rifle to the bombs, I have one myself, more a button I could press as easily as I could murder you both. Anything happen to me, and there little Junior goes boom.” Riko smiled and stopped walking when he was side-by-side with Josten. Andrew lowered the gun in hand. He could kill the bastard right here,  _wished_  he could.

But that was the thing about blackmail, it had a bad aftermath.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Minyard, just a tiny glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there to the world. I’m a specialist, I deserve attention.” Riko explained.

“You upset daddy didn’t notice you as a child? Daddy didn't come to your Exy games? Thought you had that life going for you, guess it fail as well.” Andrew smiled and Riko sneered. Probably hit a sore spot, Andrew was glad.

“You best keep your mouth shut.” He tapped Josten’s shoulder.

“I see. Consulting criminal? That’s your goal in life? People need their problems fixed and here you are, have enough money to do the job and cover up your marks. Nobody would expect the Exy super-star, would they?”

“Isn’t it great? No one ever could restrain me, and no one ever will.”

Andrew scoffed. “But I will.”

“Well, I will say you’ve come the closest, but now you’re in my way. I read a lot about you, Minyard. Be careful what you say. I have enough data to know about the little murder of your mother and a certain twin brother who has a good representation in the government. It could all change if I mention the incident with sweet loving Drake.” Andrew flinched and then his lip twitched. And here Andrew thought Josten had an attitude problem, he must be containing a lot of words by the look of it as well. “I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even fourty million pounds just to do what I had to do.”

Josten stared at Riko with hatred. Andrew’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker across to him a couple times as he tried to keep his focus on the Moriyama approaching them.

“So I hope you stay quiet when I take this little shit away with me.” Riko grinned and Josten flinched. “Although I have loved this. This little game of ours.”

“People have died.”

“That’s what people do. I don’t think you’d care. You are a killer. A monster after all.”

Andrew laughed. Not like he heard that one before. Didn't affect him when Gordon first called him it, didn't affect him now. “I will again if it means killing you.”

“No you won’t.”

Josten looked to Riko with hatred. Riko stared at him back with a smirk. “You can talk, Nathaniel. Go ahead.” Riko challenged.

“You fucking son-of-a-bitch cocksucking motherfucking asshole, when I get my hands on you-” Josten stopped because Riko was next to him, a device held in his hand containing two buttons. That was what he meant before, his way of activating the bombs.

Riko smirked at the silence then looked towards Andrew’s hand - towards the memory stick. “I’ll take that.”

Andrew didn’t care about the military plans and threw it forcibly Riko’s way. Unfortunately, he caught it with reflex and fiddled with it between his fingers. Riko then lowered his gaze to the disk and said, “How boring.” Before tossing the stick into the pool. “I could have gotten that anyways. I have the privilege.”

Seeing this opportunity, Josten kicked down Riko to his level, and held the collar of his shirt close to himself and the bombs. Andrew didn’t expect that and huffed at seeing that Josten had a spine after all. If Riko were to blow Josten up, he'd go down with him.

“Andrew, leave.” Josten said through gritted teeth, not letting go of an aggravated Riko.

Sadly, the only thing Riko had was the button. And that did no use when it was against himself. “Whatever you do now, Nathaniel, will have grave consequences when I get my hands on you again.”

Not if the both of them were dead, Andrew held his breath. He raised his arms with the gun in hand, aiming at the two. He wondered if he could do it, if it meant killing Josten. He always said one day he would, what he didn't know was if he meant it.

“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Riko, then we both go up.” Josten laughed as he tugged on Riko’s shirt harder. His knuckles became white. Pent up anger, Andrew noticed. They had met before.

Riko looked towards Andrew. “Isn’t he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. He needs to be put in place.” Then back to Josten. “People do get so sentimental about their pets. But are they as loyal as people say they are? Are they as tamed?”

Riko chuckled when a red dot came across Andrew’s forehead and Josten’s head turned his way in horror. To this, Riko pushed Josten off of him and punched him roughly to the ground. Andrew wanted to intervene but Riko held up the button when Andrew stepped a foot closer to them both. Fuck. Fucking Riko.

Josten made a move to undercut Riko but Riko dodged his swing. Josten staggered back and his face was heated with anger as he looked round his shoulder to a smirking Riko. He knew the consequences and simply glared at the male instead, his stance an inch away from running.

But that wasn't what made him stop from fighting any longer. Consequences were nothing to what Josten had endured. He stopped halfway through because the sniper wasn’t aiming at Andrew anymore, but himself instead. Towards his chest and the bombs, away from Riko's harm anymore.

“Do you know what happens if you intervene, Minyard... do you?” Riko's voice contained anger as he strode away from Josten's body - for safer measures.

“Oh, let me guess, you kill me.” Minyard rolled his eyes. “You're a boring villain, don't get your hopes up on entertaining me.”

“Kill you?” Riko laughed. “No, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m gonna kill you some day. But I don’t wanna rush it. I’m saving it up, so I can torture you and watch you die for stealing my things away from me. But if you don’t stop prying, I’ll burn you both. I’ll burn the heart out of you. Perhaps I’ll burn  _him_  literally.” He pointed to Josten, eyes narrowed.

Josten muttered an, “I've been through worse, fucktard...” He should be glad Riko was too distracted to understand what he said.

“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have a heart.” Andrew told the male, shrugging at what he didn't have. Riko stared him down slightly, then his lips curved up.

“But we both know that’s not quite true.” He shot another look towards Josten with malicious intent. Riko would kill anything that came between his things, and perhaps in this sense it meant Josten. Josten had some damn explaining to do.

“Well, I’d better be off. Was so nice to have had a proper chat.” Riko said, snapping his fingers towards Josten who didn’t move. Riko glared at Josten, who gave him the middle finger and didn't budge.

Andrew distracted Riko from blowing up his idiotic friend. “What if I were to shoot you now?”

“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Minyard. Really I would. Knowing everything I could do to you and your little fuck buddy Nathaniel here.” Josten furrowed his eyebrows and Andrew scrunched up his nose. “And maybe I would be a little bit disappointed. Of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long.” There was a serious pause before Riko’s eyes darkenes when looking at Andrew. “But anyways, you can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind. You know too much.”

“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” He looked towards Josten who returned his gaze.

But all that ended as a phone rang from the silence of all three. Riko rolled his eyes and answered it, signaling both boys to shut up with a hand. Andrew and Josten stared at each other confused.

It was a series of angry Japanese words and Josten apparently understood a few of them, flinching at a couple, smirking at a few. Andrew frowned at the scene before him, wondering what was going on and the many things he'd do to Riko to make him suffer after it was done.

Finally, Riko changed back to English. His voice breaking from the language in anger. “Say that again, and know that if you’re lying to me, I will skin you alive.”

Andrew briefly looked to Josten who shrugged.

“You are lucky I am needed.” Riko said when he put the phone back into his pocket and glared at the two.

“Oh. Did you get a better offer?”

Riko laughed humorlessly. “Know that I will make your life utter hell when you least expect it, but I'm heading off for now. Your deaths will cause questions, ones that should not be answered or known. Another day, you two, and I will have my fun. I'll be waiting.”

Then he turned away, leaving Josten alone which didn’t make sense from how much he was persistent on taking him. What was on that phone call?

But he was gone. He fucking was gone.

Instantaneously as Riko exited the building, all lasers disappeared from the boys which left them alone in the pool's blue glow.

Andrew rushed towards Josten who sighed out a breath of relief, collapsing his knees on the floor and cursing under his breath in different languages Andrew didn’t know. Andrew took a knife out from his armband and cut down the straps, throwing the bomb away. “How much did he hurt you?” Andrew frowned.

Josten tilted his head back and grinned. “I’m fine.” He said, like he didn't matter and simply seeing Andrew made everything better. If Riko hadn't done the job, Andrew surely would.

“Fine my ass. Now answer truthfully, how much did he hurt you?” Andrew narrowed his eyes over Neil's body.

“I told you I’m fine, Andrew. He didn’t do much.”

“Then how do you know him?”

Josten tensed. “No. It’s my turn. Who’s Drake?” Andrew wondered why we had to do this now.

He mentally sighed from how frustrating Josten could be. “My foster brother. He took the term brotherly-love a bit too seriously....” It took a while for Josten to understand, then he immediately frowned and looked pretty pissed. “Don’t even try.” Andrew argued, he didn't want pity. Especially not from Josten.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Now answer mine. How do you know Riko Moriyama?”

Josten sighed, positioning himself for a breakdown he was trying to hide. He sat properly, bum on the floor, arms resting on his knees, and furrowed his head down. “My father sold me to him when I was younger. He was the Moriyama's right hand man, better yet Kengo's. The big boss. When they found out I was somewhat good at Exy, they wanted me in Evermore. By Kevin and Riko's side. I was eight. My mother took me before they could confirm the contract.”

"You are making my life harder and harder to protect you.”

“I didn’t need your protection in the first place.” Josten said, sneering.

“And here I thought  _I_  introduced you to Exy, thank god that didn't happen.” Andrew huffed.

“I didn’t know about the Exy part, nor that I was sold until today. Just knew I played it with him when we were kids. Not as big of an egoistic asshole when we were small, however. Him and his adopted brother made it seem like it was just a fun playdate while tossing around balls with sticks.” 

Andrew nodded to that. “But why did he just leave you when he had the opportunity to take you back again?“

“Someone changed Riko’s mind.” Josten looked down.

“The question is who?”

“Somebody delivering a message from his father probably.” Josten told him. “Didn’t understand everything but I knew a couple words. He didn’t explain much, just a lot of threats and I’m guessing the reciprocate wasn’t as kind on the phone. Riko was pissed.”

“So he left you.”

“I think whatever it was he had to do could make me wait a bit longer. Was more important. That means we should be more cautious. Riko is a bitch but he is smart.” Andrew stared at Josten as he slumped further on the ground, tired. Even if in the back of Andrew's mind, all he could think about was how Josten chose to kill himself over Andrew’s safety. Leave, he had said. Like Andrew would leave his fucking ass. Who the fuck would ever do that? “Now question is, are you okay?” Josten asked.

“I should be asking you that. You are an idiot. How did pizza end up to this?”

“I don’t remember. Perhaps I was drugged.” Andrew’s face darkened. “Nothing bad. I would of felt something if it did. He wanted me presentable. To be able to walk. To be able to communicate with you and make a show.”

“Next time, I’m getting pizza with you, jackass. Not letting you out of my sight again.” Andrew rolled his eyes and Josten laughed. Fucking laughed in a situation like this. The laugh wasn't even humorless, nor maniacal, nor out of shock. It was genuine, soft and the curve of lip was in a perfect smile. Andrew wondered why the fuck they were still alive for him to be able to hear Neil Josten fucking laugh.

But maybe this time, he didn’t hate it so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The boys need to be close and they obviously don't start hitting off the moment they meet. It's all about trust and patience, so that's where I'm headed with these children of mine. But as I both love and loathe slow burns, you all won't be getting much but pinning and mutual questioning for why they feel a 'Certain Way', not until their relationship expands. But there are still scenes where their bond grows stronger, if you look close enough. Without squinting, of course, because it's blatantly oBVIOUS THESE BOYS ARE IN LOVE.


	4. Case 4: A Scandal In Belgravia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 1 Season 2 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings; Not a lot for this chapter, it's fairly fast paced. I'll warn you that now. Perhaps it has vague homophobic use but like - if you squint. Case itself deals with shootings, slight violence, "terrorist attacks" and uh s’bout it. There isn’t much really. Graphically. It's more to set out for new characters to join their group as you could notice that many aren't there, nudge nudge. However, not sure if it should be tagged, but there's slight nudity and later on, small panic attacks. No harm to the characters, just things that bring back the past without so bringing up the past in details...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But yall, I'm back again! And here's another chapter right on time for the Twinyards' birthday~  
> Another good thing coming out of this could be that the next chapter will be updated sooner. I'm almost finished actually. So good things, good things.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this!

Neil yawned when he entered the room, rubbing his eyelids and blinking slightly to focus his view. He found Minyard awake, looking through files on the ground, and had a buffet of breakfast by his side. Sure. Breakfast. If sugary sweets and chocolate counted as such. Neil rolled his eyes as he got out some bread for himself to make. At least his was healthier.

Both boys ate in the silence of one another, espicially how exhausted they were from last week’s case. With all the new processed information thrown at them, it was quite tiring and had them more than wary.  

And so they found a new tactic when allocating the new cases, to help their process out a little bit. A way without moving, especially with  the exhaustion and need of doing some mental thinking. Minyard loved it, since it was the lazy way out.

Their new plan consisted of strangers ringing the doorbell to ask for help, apparently. As the boys gave them a session and interview if their cases were worthy enough.

They actually didn't know how it started. Somehow from all the cases they had solved, they had grown quite famous in people’s eyes. They helped with few problems and in retaliation, other people came to them when in need. If someone had a suggestion for a case, Minyard and Neil could easily help out and they would come to them directly. The chain continued as such.

However, it only occurred if Minyard seemed interested enough by the idealistic process, he was a picky person and had blunt opinions. It always varied on his mood and whoever was considered ‘interesting’ for him.

It all worked out in the end though, if the aftermath of a case was traumatic for the client, they could consult with Betsy downstairs. And the boys would get a good solve out of it. It benefited all parties. 

And so Minyard and Neil set a place for all those who would be interviewed, to see if their idea of a case fitted the criteria. The two boys would be seated on the couch, and a chair in the middle of the room would be placed for the clients.

Weeks had passed after this new plan. It had been a habit for them to get calls in the early morning and get the evening off for themselves. They had gotten used to it and sometimes ended up getting good cases out of it.

For example, just as Neil went to grab his toasted bread, the doorbell rang and both boys looked at each other from their food, sighing. The cycle of clients started around 8 in the morning, having continuous interviews until 2, those often were solved in the amount of minutes each client had.

The day went by smoothly, however dull.

“My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office.” One had said, Minyard waved him off and sighed, seeming already bored by the man.

A woman came in the next half hour. “I think my husband might be having an affair.” She teared up. 

“He is.” Minyard sent her off with that.

Holding an urn in hand, a man sat down on the chair. “She’s not my real aunt. She’s been replaced – I know she has. I know human ash.”

Minyard pointed to the door. “Fucking leave.”

Next was a man who sat with one leg over the other. Suit and tie in check with two body guards behind him. “We are prepared to offer any sum of money you care to mention for the recovery of these files.”

“Boring.” Minyard sent them off as well.

“We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books, because people miss a lot of the themes.” One young man said and Minyard was about to say ‘fuck off’ before the man interrupted him. “But then all the comic books started coming true.” He waited for Minyards response, as if that sentence would have made his gears run. With bettter judgement, Minyard raised an eyebrow, silently asking if the guy was serious.

“I’ll think about it.” That was as good as gone in Minyard's world.

On another occasion, two little girls were sitting together on the chair. One said, “They wouldn’t let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that because he’d gone to heaven?”

Minyard groaned. “People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned.” The two girls looked at one another in distress and Neil rubbed his temples, sinking further into the coach.

The next patient seemed to surprise both men as it was Boyd smiling up at them from the chair. “This is fun. I feel like a teenager getting interviewed for their first job again. No, better yet, the X-Factor. Andrew, you are so Simon.” He said. Neil raised both eyebrows in question. Simon who? “Anyways. There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead.”

“Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news.”

“You said it was boring and went back to sleep.” Neil scoffed, looking at Minyard who shrugged.

“We found the body in the trunk of a car.” Boyd continued. “According to the flight details, the man was checked in on board. Inside his coat, he’s got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of those special biscuits. Here’s his passport stamped in Berlin Airport.” He handed Minyard the passport. Minyard examined it, thankfully not sending Boyd out as well as the thousands of others. “So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead he’s in a car trunk found in Southwark. Any ideas, Drew, my man?”

Boyd gave him a photograph of the dead body to get the interest of the blond, smiling wide to get him on the case. Minyard looked at it sternly. “Eight, so far.” Minyard said.

Then a frown. “Okay, four.”

He turned to Boyd and looked down at the passport and the ticket stub of the passenger which were given to him. The name read John Coniston - who was meant to be travelling on Flyaway Airways. “Maybe two ideas.”

Neil knew he had none.

Minyard never mentioned the unsolved ones, never brought them up and forgot about them all together. It sometimes showed Neil that he could be human sometimes.

Boyd stayed for a while and drank coffee with them, chatting up on what they missed.

“So you know how we have our own group in the detective shit, right?”

“Maybe?” Neil raised an eyebrow. Minyard didn’t glance up from his phone.

“Okay, you, me, Dan, Andrew and Wymack. Perhaps Seth. Renee, even. We are like sticks and stones. Good team compatibility.”

“And where are you going with this?”

“We need a name for ourselves. Like the Breakfast Club, the Outsiders. Stuff like that but well, not those.” Boyd beamed.

“A club about breakfast?”

“Don’t tell me-”

“Josten’s not good with modern day terms. He's uncultured.” Minyard reminded him. “People often forget that.”

“Even Andrew’s seen it, what the fuck Neil?”

Neil raised his hands up defensively. “I never had time.” It wasn’t so a lie.

“Okay, we will catch you up in this generation next time we have the chance. For now, back to group name. I say the Puppies.”

“Not a chance in hell.” Minyard told him right off the bat.

“Kitties?”

“I'd say a lot of us were pussies too, Boyd, specifically a certain Gordon.”

Boyd laughed at that.

“Okay, okay. How about the Ultimate Detectives of Devastation and Despair.”

“That's real fucking emo. I'd have thought you'd go with Wymack's Angels.” Minyard huffed out and this time Neil snickered. On the other hand, Boyd almost choked on his drink. Then his eyes shot up.

“Foxes.” He said. Both men looked at him. “I mean, most of us are sly and sneaky yet cuddly and sweet. It’s the perfect name! I even got told we were like foxes by a friend. She helped out I guess, I'll give her some kudos. This is great!” He cheered and Neil looked to Minyard who didn't so think the name was all ao great. Tough shit, it made Boyd happy and Neil kind of liked it. Boyd continued on, “Wymack has been wondering on a department name for a while. Or to change it. For the precinct. The Police House was getting on his nerves apparently, not a good name and I have to agree. I’ll suggest something along the line of foxes to him.” Neither Minyard nor Neil said anything to Boyd because he seemed rather proud of the name.

Boyd then left, happily muttering how he was going to make the name official and Neil smiled at his friend. Then he wondered why being apart of the name ‘The Foxes’ felt so right. It had a nice ring to it.

 

 

Betsy picked up her cup of tea as she entered the kitchen after Boyd's departure, tutting in exasperation at the mess in which the boys created. She glanced at Minyard who was now throwing knives onto the wall in boredom. All the while Neil who was watching a recorded Exy match of the Trojans against Ravens. Cursing at a certain captain that made appearance like he didn't just blow up tons of people.

Fucking dickwad.

Betsy coughed to get the attention of both boys who were being rather mundane on their part. One stabbing the wall, the other cursing under his breath like he was performing a satanic ritual. They looked at her in wonder, their heads tilting towards the entrance at the same time that it made the older woman wonder what kind of trippy acid they were on. Weirdly alike, those two were.

Betsy, with one hand holding her tea, pointed to the door with her thumb. “First of all, room's a mess. Clean up after yourselves. Second, I think someone’s here to see you. Looks kind of,” She tried to find her words. “Off.” Was what she finally said.

Minyard quirked an eyebrow but continued to throw the knives, seeing if he could form a frowning face. Neil sighed and went over to the door, as Betsy added milk to the tea.

When he opened the front door to the apartment, a man almost stumbled on him, seeming rather wide-eyed and confused. Neil backed away as the man started walking slowly into the house.

“The door was. I-” The man breathed heavily, and dropped to the floor. Neil’s jaw opened slightly. Then once he realised the man wasn't waking up, he rolled his eyes, calling out, “Minyard. We’ve got another one.”

 

 

The man – who said his was name was Phil – had regained consciousness and sighed more than fifty times in the seconds he was awake, gripping his head between his finger on the mid-room chair. Neil and Minyard helped him when they found him unconscious. Meaning they more or less spilled water on his face to wake him up. He gasped and stumbled on his words, wondering why he was lying on their floor. Both men knew he was here for a case, Minyard seemed intrigued to say the least by the sudden entrance.

“Tell us from the start. Don’t be boring.” Minyard said, pacing around the room in lieu of the couch where Neil was resting.

“I was somewhere out in the countryside, my car had broken down." Phil started, trying his best to recall what happened. "I tried to start the engine but it refused to start. I was angry, so I slammed my hands on the steering wheel and wondered what I should do. There wasn’t much I could do, actually. So I decided to head out and see what the main problem was.”

Minyard quirked an eyebrow. "And?"

“And I looked around... there was something out on the field. It was just… A man."

"Describe the man." Neil inquired.

"He was wearing a red jacket, standing in the middle. He had his back to the road but he seemed to just stand there, doing nothing. I just stared at him for a moment but he was too far away for me to notice anything."

"What importance does this man have? To the story." Neil quirked an eyebrow. Minyard continued to pace, but seemed rather invested. This was a first in many days.

Phil bounced his leg up and down. He was anxious. _For what?_ , was the question. "Eventually I got back into the car again and tried once more to start the engine. Still didn’t work. I should have never gone back in the car."

"What happened when you got back in the car?"

"I went to the car and," He paused. "And I heard a noise, a loud sound. Perhaps a gunshot, I don’t know. I looked back to the field and the man wasn’t standing anymore, he was on the ground. I thought he maybe tripped, maybe fell asleep, maybe that wasn’t the sound of a bullet hitting him. I hoped it wasn't, so I went over to see.” Phil breathed. “I asked him if he was okay, and there was no response. I tried again, but silence. When I finally came into reach with the man, he was lying face down in a pool of blood, and I panicked. Ran over here.”

Minyard looked towards Neil. Neil sighed. Here went another case it seemed. For better or worse, both boys didn't know.

 

 

The crime scene had been set up at the riverside where the corpse of the red coated male was displayed, lying in the grass and well... dead. Andrew came over to Wilds who was talking to a forensic officer. She greeted Andrew when she was done her chit-chat, and he just nodded in her direction. “How have you been?” She asked.

Andrew shrugged. “Like usual.”

“What about Neil? Is he here? Thought you two were like sticks and stones.”

“He’ll help, if he doesn’t freak out about being called on the phone. Josten’s busy looking after our unwanted guest back at home. We don’t want the witness running away now, do we?”

“Sounds familiar.” She said, rather smugly.

“Does it now?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of Josten, I need your phone. He has mine.”

“He needs a damn phone for himself.” She frowned.

“Don’t I know that.” Andrew rolled his eyes, taking the phone Wilds gave him as he called Josten. It answered almost immediately and all Andrew heard on the other side was a yawn. “Tired, already?”

“Yeah, 'course.” Josten mumbled. Andrew put him on speaker for the benefit of Wilds.

“Neil.” She said.

“Oh, Wilds. Hey.”

“How have you been?”

“Fine. We've just been bored for the past few days, thinking over the last case.”

She nodded. “Must have been a nightmare, the deaths were just tragic.”

“Yeah, that.” Of course Wilds didn’t know it was about Riko. She didn’t need to know that part, for all she knew the bomber killed himself in the last explosion. It was what the world only needed to know. So Andrew nodded along as well to what Josten probably meant, to the half-truth he told. There was silence before Josten asked how _she_ was doing, changing the conversation elsewhere. Wilds grinned.

“Great. Apparently we are changing the department's name to The Foxhole Court in courtesy of Matt. It’s catchy, I like it.” She said and Andrew wondered how fast Boyd could have proposed these things to Wymack and how fast Wymack could have just said ‘ _yeah okay_ ’. “Guess we are all foxes now, aren’t we?"

"Seems like it." Andrew hummed.

"Anyways, besides that, Matt and I have been wondering about a vacation. He said he really wanted to go to somewhere fun because the job was getting boring, now that people were afraid to commit murder in the fear of getting caught by the duo Minyard and Josten." She laughed. "I said we were going to go on a honeymoon soon after the wedding. That we only had enough for the event. We aren’t getting that much money to be able to afford two vacations and a wedding. He’s persistent though. Said he knew someone. What do you think?”

He heard Josten wonder on the other end, a long series of uh’s in reconciliation to what Wilds asked.

“Why not figure that out after. You have time,” Andrew said. “Wedding’s around-”

“May.” Wilds responded rather quickly.

“So you have about a few months. Lots of time. It's only December. Now back to the case.” He heard the doorbell ring on the other side of the phone, but he didn’t hear Josten get up to answer it. “Another guest?”

“Dunno, could be for Betsy.” Andrew hummed and Wilds side-eyed him as she handed Andrew a pair of gloves. He picked a pair up, putting them on. “Why can’t I come anyways. Phil seems rather okay on his own, aren’t you Phil?” There was a silent yes on the other end.

“Better to keep an eye on him.” Andrew stated and Josten sighed. “There’s no point in you leaving the apartment anyways.” Wilds led him to the broken down car that Phil used, and Andrew handed her the phone so he could investigate further. He squatted down, inspecting the grass and rubbed his fingers together in search of solubles.

“When did we agree that I would be the one staying at the flat?” Josten asked.

"We agreed yesterday.” Andrew said, picking up a couple strands of grass.

“Phil came in this morning.”

“We agreed yesterday that if anything were to happen, you’d help them and I’d go to the scene.”

“Yeah, I meant that in a life or death situation. If the victim was _dying_. But here Phil is, having coffee with me now and watching TV. Phil is probably being better company than you, now that I think of it.”

“Good for you, when's the wedding? I was wondering how I could get rid of you, didn’t know it was that easy. Hope Phil has a nice flat for you to live in now.” Andrew went to the mud on the ground, around the corpse and raised an eyebrow.

“Wait, I wasn’t even home yesterday. I was with Boyd.” Josten noted.

“Well, it’s hardly my fault you weren’t listening to that conversation then.”

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time. Josten ignored it once more on the other line by continuing on the conversation. “How long do you carry on talking when I’m away? Do you even realise I’m gone, or is it just constant monologue?”

Andrew huffed. “I don’t know. How often are you away?”

Josten didn’t answer the question, instead he asked, “So what is there now?”

“Car. Phil’s car.”

“That’s the one that made the noise, yeah?"

"Yes. And if you’re thinking gunshot, there wasn’t one. He wasn’t shot, he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer.” Andrew said, Josten hummed.

“I’ll give you dorks two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver.” Wilds said, glancing between the phone in her hand and Andrew. The latter rolled his eyes.

“Why do people need time limits. We have all day.”

“Well it may go by faster if you stopped bickering.”

“That’s just how we think.” Andrew clicked his tongue. Wilds laughed, and Andrew looked to her as if he knew what she was thinking. “Forget Phil. He’s an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?”

“Hey!” A voice was heard on the phone and Andrew ignored it. Josten huffed out a laugh.

“Well I think he’s a suspect.” Wilds said, defensively. There it was.

“Knowing Minyard’s tone, I say he isn’t. Because Minyard’s always right, is he not?" There was a smug tone to Josten's voice. "Did you see how fast he solved the case with the John Coniston guy - killed in the trunk but not on a bombed plane?” There was a pause. “Oh wait, Minyard didn’t complete it, that's right.” And Andrew heard the grin on the other side. Asshole.

“You do know there is a mute button and I will not hesitate to use it.” Andrew frowned.

“Try me, big boy.”

“Stop flirting, both of you." Wilds sighed. "Andrew I need your reasoning for why he’s not a suspect.”

Andrew waved her off. “Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair play? I doubt it.”

“He’s trying to be clever. It’s overconfidence.” Wilds suggested.

Andrew sighed in exasperation. “Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy – and you think he’s an audacious criminal mastermind?” There was silence. “Don’t worry – it's a stupid theory to think him as the murderer.”

“What did you say? Heart what?” Phil said with panic. Out of all things to be shocked about, that was the one Phil was most concerned with. There was scattering on the other line, Josten probably had to calm him down and sit him back on the chair.

Then there was Bee’s voice. “You weren’t answering your doorbell, Andrew- oh, Neil. It’s just you and um, someone. Hello... you.” She said. “Anyways, there’s a man here for Andrew. Seen him round?"

Andrew wasn’t expecting anybody, he looked towards Wilds who shrugged. He heard Phil's panic on the other end over something about an invasion, a shout of cry over a mix of why random people were in the house, that Phil was shrieking over it not just being an invasion, but the murderer from the field coming to get him and increase his heart failure. Josten groaned as he was heard walking away from the phone, getting frustrated by the second. Then a different man’s voice came on, telling them to come with him, and then the phone call ended.

Andrew looked back to Wilds who this time didn’t shrug but met his gaze, jaw agape. “What happened?” She asked.

“I’ve lost connection. I need to-”

A younger looking police officer hurried over to Andrew with a phone pressed to his ear. “Are you Andrew Minyard?” He asked. Andrew nodded once.

“It’s for you.” Andrew reached for the phone and the man tilted his head.

“Uh, no, sir.” He pointed to the road. “The limo.”

 

 

Not long afterwards, Andrew had been shown into an enormous ornate hall with massive crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He looked around for a moment, and watched his escort lead him inside. It seemed like a living room. That was inside Buckingham Palace. Because this was Buckingham Palace. What the fuck was he doing here?

There was a sofa on either side of the table and sitting on the left-hand was Neil Josten. Andrew sighed when he saw him there, he didn’t seem harmed in any way. However, he looked off from the setting of the place. Wearing his sort-of pajamas more on the hobo look than anthing, and a large duvet over his shoulder, wrapping his whole torso tight. Josten’s gaze turned quickly when he heard Andrew come in, and he smiled to him. Yet the smile seemed more telling, 'what the fuck is happening'. Andrew shrugged disinterestedly and looked away again - he may have a clue.

He sat down on the sofa besides his friend and gazed in front for a moment, then around the room again and then to Josten. Andrew pointed to the duvet wrapped around him, raising an eyebrow. “Did they force you out of bed?” 

“No.” Andrew nodded. A moment later Josten turned and looked to him just as Andrew did the same. Their eyes met and they promptly started to question the location. “At Buckingham Palace, never expected to be here. Least of all from what I’ve been through. I’m seriously fighting an impulse to steal something. What are we doing here, Andrew?” Josten huffed.

“I don’t know.” Andrew scoffed. “Here to see the Queen?” At that moment Aaron walked in the room. Andrew rolled his eyes. “Oh, apparently so.” Josten let out a laugh. A loud one at that. One that even Aaron heard, and triggered a scowl from the blond.

“Just once, can you two be mature?” He asked of them both before walking towards the two boys. He had a fancy suit on, and his hair was in better shape than the last time Andrew had seen it. He imagined the many hours Katelyn often spent perfecting Aaron's appearance, because Andrew knew damn well Aaron couldn't do it on his own. If it were for Aaron to decide, he'd come in a tuxedo accompanying messy hair, and bags under the eyes.

“We solve crimes, I eat sugar everyday and he forgets his clothes, so I wouldn’t hold out too much hope.” Andrew held a smug look, then his face fell. “Anyways. I was in the middle of a case, _Aaron_.”

“What? The hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?”

“Transparent.” Josten looked towards Andrew with a confused expression. He'd have tell him about it later. 

“Time to move on, then.” Aaron quickly retorted. He bent down and picked up the clothes from the table, turning to offer them to Josten. 

Josten gazed at them uninterested. “I’m cozy in my PJ’s, thank you very much.”

Aaron sighed. “We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation.” 

“And for that, I can’t wear pajamas? Why not?”

“Andrew’s client.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “And my client is?”

A man walked in the room, elder than any of them and held an aura of superiority. Andrew felt the disinterest radiating from the elder immediately. He had better not be his client. The man indeed looked like the type of person who wanted to be announced before making his presence shown in a room. “Illustrious in the extreme. And remaining – I have to inform you – entirely anonymous.” The man’s eyes flew to Aaron. “Aaron.” He greeted and Aaron nodded his way. Thank fuck he wasn't a client. Even so, Andrew was stuck with two assholes - great.

“Harry. May I just apologize for the state of my brother and his friend.” Andrew's nose crinkled up at how former his brother was being. His brother, the asshole, who wouldn't talk to anybody during his college years and who would snarl at anybody who came even as close as a feet away from him. Now to see that he was still an asshole _and_ in the government. Andrew could almost laugh. It was rich coming from Aaron himself, after all.

“Full-time occupation, I imagine.” Harry said. “And this must be Neil Josten.” He glared at Josten and Andrew could tell he knew something on the male, not saying anything to innitiate the information.

“Yo.” Josten said flatly as he gazed down the man.

“Yo?”

“Yo.” He repeated, like it was a challenge.

“Good. Alright.” Harry coughed at Josten's specialty to make people uncomfortable, then looked to Andrew. “My employer is a tremendous fan of yours.”

“Your employer?” Josten asked, looking round to Andrew, clearing his throat smugly. Well that made three assholes in the room. "And a fan of Andrew's?"

Harry ignored Josten. “ _And_ Mr. Minyard, you look shorter in your photographs.”

Andrew held a smile with twitched lips. “I take the precaution of a bad coat and an a similar in height friend to balance it out.” Josten frowned, served him right for the earlier comment. Andrew then got off the couch and stared at Aaron. “I don’t do anonymous clients. I’m used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work.” Josten was already up, holding onto his long duvet tightly. They started walking out of the room, but Harry stepped on Josten’s tail end of the duvet, the latter turning abruptly to the man. Harry seemed to have done it so they wouldn't leave, but Josten seemed rather attached to his duvet and glared at Harry who didn't let go of the sheet.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Aaron looked to his brother. “This is a matter of national importance, Andrew. _Grow_ _up_.” National importance. What did he care for national importance.

Josten continued to stare at Harry. “Get. Off. My. Sheet.”

Andrew scowled at his brother. “Who is my client?”

Aaron looked like he was having a crisis.

“Take a look at where you’re standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God’s sake-” He broke off and glanced at Josten briefly, trying to get his anger under control before he turned back to his brother again. “Get Neil some actual clothes and cooperate.”

Josten mumbled, “Fuck cooperation.” And walked away with a sweater and pants in hand, given to him by Harry. “Pyjamas are actually clothes!” He called back and disappeared to a probable nearby bathroom. Aaron sighed. Andrew closed his eyes furiously, and breathed in. This meeting was going to be a pain.  
  
Some time later, Josten came back all dressed, and here they were on the sofa again. Aaron and Harry were on the opposite ends of the large room. Harry coughed to simmer down the awkward silence. Pity, Andrew preferred it that way. “My employer has a problem.”

“A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, Andrew, your name has arisen.” Aaron explained.

“Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“People do come to you for help, don’t they, Mr. Minyard?” Harry asked.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll help them.”

“This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust.”

Josten scoffed. “You don’t trust your own Secret Service?”

Aaron frowned. “Naturally not. They all spy on people for money.” Josten bit back a smile.

Harry rolled his eyes at practically all three of them. “I do think we have a timetable.”

“Yes, surely.” Aaron said. Andrew wondered how he was even able to stay in a high social status towards the government with an attitude like that. Sarcasm everywhere he went it seemed. Even Andrew and Josten only seemed to get through to Wymack on some days.

Harry opened a briefcase, taking out a glossy photograph and handed it to Andrew. He looked at the picture of a woman - face filled with makeup and platinum blonde expensively-cut hair, and wondered what she did to deserve the royal families attention. “What do you know about this woman?”

“Nothing whatsoever.”

“Then you should be paying more attention.” Aaron clicked his tongue. “She’s been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately. Her father owns a large amount of plot, and is one of the richest men in London.”

“You know I don’t concern myself with trivia. Who is she?”

There was silence before Aaron said, “Allison Reynolds, professionally known as The Woman.”

“Professionally?”

“There are many names for what she does.”

Andrew dreaded to think how her profession ran, Josten just seemed confused. “Don’t be alarmed, Josten. It’s to do with sex.” He informed the male.

Josten looked offended. Or as much as he _could_ look offended. Josten hardly ever fit the appeal, simply having a face in constant frustration when involving socialising and culture. The only times Josten was ever truly offended, occurred during two types of social topics: Exy or the lifestyle he lived. “Sex doesn’t alarm me, I’m just not interested in it.” He told Andrew, while the latter raised an eyebrow.

Aaron coughed to simmer down the chat of sex. Prude. “She provides – shall we say – recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it.” He explained. “These are all from her website.” He handed Andrew a couple more pictures which he didn’t entirely seem pleased about. Andrew was glad he wasn’t into these sort of things. It did nothing to him in any way - these women. Allison Reynolds seemed the type to get around, but there had to be a reason for it. Something she could gain in the process, and to make others understand her profession. Having such a powerful family meant her name would have been broadcasted worldwide since the day her parents held fortune. Yet, nobody knew of her. Andrew had not known her presence until this very moment, not until a client was under influence of her. There was something that connected it all together, something Reynolds was hiding and something that didn't just make this a regular sex case.

“And I assume this Reynolds woman has some compromising photographs.” Andrew concluded.

“You’re very quick, Mr. Minyard.” Harry said.

“Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?” Andrew pressed on, he had to get ideas on those specific questions. To figure out Reynolds and her intentions. What she, herself, could mean.

“A person of significance to my employer. We’d prefer not to say any more at this time.” Andrew glared at Harry and put the photographs down.

“You can’t tell us anything?” Josten asked. Was he even interested in the photographs? Andrew couldn't tell. What _was_ his preference?

“I can tell you it’s a young person.” Josten furrowed his eyebrows. Josten was right, that sure narrowed it down. “A young female person.” Harry said, trying to get to a point without saying anything.

Oh.

Andrew knew.

Josten didn’t it seemed.

What a pity.

“How many photographs?” Andrew asked.

“A considerable number, apparently.”

“Does Miss Reynolds and this young female person appear in these photographs together?”

“Yes, they do.”

“And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios.”

“An imaginative range, we are assured.”

Josten and Aaron both looked to each other.

“So can you help us, Mr. Minyard?” Harry asked. Now he on the other hand, didn’t look fazed by all of this.

“How?” Andrew asked.

“Will you take the case?”

Persistent. “What case? You can pay her, now and in full. Miss Reynolds remarks that in her masthead.” Andrew tilted his head. Oh, how this was fun to rile people up. He turned and reached for his coat which was draped on the back of the sofa.

“She doesn’t want anything.” Aaron said. Andrew stared at his brother. “She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour.”

Andrew quirked another eyebrow. “Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. This is getting rather interesting, isn’t it?” Josten stared at him. He stared back.

“Don’t get a hard on because of this case.” Aaron mumbled.

“Oh I surely won’t.” Andrew's face was close to a smirk, knowing well Aaron didn't know a lot of things about his brother. “Now, where is she?”

“In London currently. She’s staying-” Andrew didn’t wait for him to finish, he started walking away with Josten at his tail.

He waved a hand in dismissal to the people behind him. “Text me the details. I’ll be in touch by the end of the day.”

“Do you really think you’ll have news by then?” Andrew turned his head slightly, looking back at Harry.

“No, I think I’ll have the photographs.”

“One can only hope you’re as good as you seem to think.” Harry snickered.

Andrew looked at Harry up and down and held a smug look. He already had many guesses on the man, many information. Hairs on his shoulder - Harry had three dogs, the way he wore his uniform meant he spent time in public school as a child, he was a horse rider and by the aura he had at such an early time in the morning, could only mean he was an early riser and came off the left side of bed everyday. Henry's hands were those of a non-smoker. Didn’t shake, didn’t twitch as those who would feel temptation. Yet he had a lighter in his back pocket. One to which Andrew noted attentively. Harry was on the Welsh side in origin, perhaps his father was pure blooded. Most likely traits. He read and drank tea daily as the stains on his cuff said so and the small cuts on his index indicate paper over a few days old.

Many details about Harry, and just from his work attire. 

It was interesting, to say the least, how little Harry knew of Andrew.

So with these observations, Andrew knew he could impress everyone in this room, yet he decided against it. He looked to Aaron instead. “I’ll need some equipment, of course.”

“Anything you require. I’ll have it sent to-”

“Can I have a box of matches?” Harry raised his eyebrows at the say. “Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do.”

“I don’t smoke.” Harry informed him.

“No, I know you don’t, but your employer does."

After a pause during which Josten frowned in puzzlement, Harry reached into his pocket and took out a lighter which he handed to Andrew. “We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Minyard.”

Andrew looked bored. “I’m not the Commonwealth.” Taking the lighter from Harry, he put it into his pocket and turned away.

 

 

Not long afterwards, Andrew found his car in the Buckingham parking lot. So they brought him by limousine which he absolutely hated, but brought his car all the same... Why couldn't Andrew have driven his own car here? They were more assholes than he previously thought. And more on the dramatic side. He wondered how they got the keys but would rather not know how as this would aggravate him even further.

When he came to the front seat, he checked the insides for anything new or different. It seemed like the same as it was before but he could tell by the creases on the chair and the change in the wheel and seat position that there was somebody in here prior to Andrew.

Josten came in the passenger's seat shorty afterwards and frowned. “Okay, the smoking. How did you know?” He asked.

Andrew shook his head. “The evidence was right under your nose, Josten. As ever, you see but do not observe.”

“So what was it?”

“The ashtray.” Andrew pulled out a glass ashtray and handed it to Josten. “You said you wanted to steal something, but you weren’t quick enough. So there, did it for you. Question was, why did they have an ashtray when he clearly didn’t smoke? Simple. Employees. His hands were signs that he, himself, did not smoke. I'd recognize addiction when I see one.” Josten took the tray and huffed. 

They drove the car into a narrow street and parked it near some sort of museum, rather far away from the house itself. “Where are we going anyways?” Josten asked.

“Two streets away, but this’ll do.” Andrew parked it and got out of the car.

“For what?” Josten did the same.

Andrew looked to Josten with clear intent to what he was going to ask and said, “Punch me in the face.”

“Punch you?” Josten’s eyes widened.

“Yes. Punch me, in the face. I'm giving you this free pass, this once. As it's for the case, I'll allow it.” He gestured to his left cheek. “Now hurry the fuck up, Josten.”

“You know, whenever you talk I always hear 'punch me in the face', but it’s usually sub-text. Now that it’s the real deal, I’m concerned for your well being.”

“My well being is as fucked as it could get.”

“Andrew, I can’t.”

Andrew swore then punched Josten in the face.

Josten almost fell back, grunting in pain. He apparently did not expect that. Andrew shook out his hand and then blew out a small breath, bracing himself as Josten’s lip twitched in anger.

And of course, he punched Andrew back in defence and both of them swore this time.

“Good punch.” He told him. Josten had an upcoming bruise on his cheek, he probably even bit his lip from the blow judging by the blood starting to flow from the side of his mouth. 

Josten glared at Andrew. “Yeah, you too. But what the fuck?” His face was more contorted with pent-up anger and frustration than anything else.

“Let’s get moving, don’t want to be late now.”

Andrew left and walked the couple streets down until he came to a door attached to a rather large house. Josten mumbling by his side, incoherent words about how idiotic this day was becoming. Andrew rang the doorbell and looked towards the camera so the other person could see, waiting for a response from the intercom.

“Hello?” A woman infally said through the box. Not Reynolds, Andrew noted.

“Sorry to disturb you. I’ve just been attacked, I think they," Andrew paused for an effect. "They took my wallet and my phone.”

“I can phone the police if you want.” The woman said on the other end.

“That would be good.” Andrew said. “Oh, and would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? It would be appreciated." The woman in the intercom buzzed him in and Andrew gave a smug look to Josten who rolled his eyes.

The house was grand in the interior as it was on the outside, the woman who wasn’t Allison Reynolds raised her eyebrow at Josten. “I saw it all happen, tried to intervene. It’s okay, I’m a… doctor.” He lied. The woman nodded.

To stay in character, and to cover his ass, Josten asked, "Now, have you got a first aid kit?”

“In the kitchen.” She gestured towards Andrew to wait in the living room as she made Josten follow her into the next room over.

Andrew sat on the couch, sinking in and waiting for Josten to be done. That was until he heard footsteps approaching and looked towards the noise when a blonde woman came in wearing nothing but a silk robe, undergarments and high heeled shoes.

“Hello. Sorry to hear that you’ve been hurt. I don’t think Sarah caught your name." She purred. "Oh, it’s always hard to remember an alias when you’ve had a fright, isn’t it?” She smirked. Andrew frowned.

The woman came to sit besides him and frowned when Andrew didn’t seem fazed by her appearance, or almost-nudity. “So. Mr. Andrew Minyard, it’s rather great to see you.”

“Miss Reynolds, I presume.”

“Reynolds is boring to me. Call me Allison.” She then smiled and her eyes drifted over his face. “Look at those cheekbones. So sharp, must have hurt getting punched like that.” She noted.

Andrew stared up at her, narrowing his eyes just at the same time Josten came in, carrying a medic kit and a bowl of water. Sarah probably gave him a handful.

“Right, this should do it.” He said, not noticing Reynolds at first, but stopped dead in the doorway, raising his eyebrow at the two once he did. Reynolds looked round to him.

“Oh, aren’t you pretty.” She said.

Josten frowned. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

Reynolds waved her hands in dismissal. “Sit down.” Josten slowly came to sit on Andrew’s other end, looking unfazed. This only made Andrew question which way he swung. "Oh, if you’d like some tea I can call my assistant.”

“We’re good.” Josten said.

They all stared silently at each other for several seconds, weighing each other up. Josten fiddled with his sweater strings and Andrew wondered what Reynolds wanted. He tried to deduct anything about her but the lack of clothing and way she wore herself made him wary of his theories. He didn’t have much to go on and he mentally swore. It was a weird feeling not knowing what the other person meant or what they were to do next. The only one who this had ever occurred to was Josten.

He frowned even further.

“Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Andrew? However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait.” Reynolds said.

“You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face?”

“No, I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it’s yourself. Just like all of us. You are hiding something and I knew from when I entered the room. What a pity. Same could be said with that fellow over there.” She pointed towards Josten who didn’t entirely know what to say. “Oh, and I think somebody loves _you_. Why, if I had to punch that face, I’d avoid your nose and teeth too.” She smirked, then her eyes roamed over Andrew. “I couldn't say the same about you though.”

Andrew frowned. “There is nothing between us.”

“Why? Are you feeling exposed?”

“I don’t think Josten knows where to look.” Andrew told her.

Reynolds didn’t seem pleased with the answer. She looked like she wanted to settle it once and for all, and Andrew wondered how much she already knew of him for that to occur. She then comfortably snuggled herself in the robe, hiding the undergarments and looked to Josten to see if he would say anything on Andrew’s behalf. She grinned when he stared at her blankly. “No, I think he knows exactly where to look.”

“Don’t we have better things to talk about.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Now tell me, I need to know.” Reynolds demanded. “How was it done?”

“How was what done?” Josten looked to Andrew this time.

Reynolds took off her high heel shoes, stretching her feet and wiggling her toes in relief. She stared at the boys, with a pained expression like they were so clueless that it had hurt her. “The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?”

“That’s not why I’m here.” Andrew said.

“No, no, no.” She laughed. “You’re here for the photographs but that’s never going to happen, and since we’re here just chatting away-”

Josten narrowed his eyes and pointed her way. “That story’s not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?”

“I know one of the officers. Well, I know what he likes.”

“Oh.” Andrew said. “And since when do you like policemen?” He suspected it had something to do with why Seth Gordon hadn’t been around lately. The blonde he always mentioned but never introduced. The one who recently left him - an on and off battle.

“I like detective stories – and detectives, even policemen, anything to get by.” She said, with a shrug.

Josten continuously stared at Andrew, Reynolds did the same. Andrew tried to clear it up as best as he could in the time they had. “The position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That’s all you need to know.”

“Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?” Reynolds asked.

“He wasn’t.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“You don’t think it was murder?” Josten asked.

“I know it wasn’t.”

“How?” Reynolds leaned in.

“The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I’m looking for are in this room.”

Reynolds grinned. “Okay, but how?”

“So, they are in this room. Josten, man the door. Let no one in.” Reynolds and Andrew shared both the same look, challenging one another. Josten just backed away from both of them and went to guard the door, leaving the two alone, probably in his own pleasure to be away. 

Reynolds sat up straighter, looking suspiciously at the closed door.

“Two men alone in the countryside, several yards apart, and one car.” Andrew said, startling her. He adjusted his arm bands and Reynolds eyed him.

“I thought you were looking for the photos now.”

“No. Looking takes ages. I’m going to find them but you’re moderately clever and we’ve got a moment, so let’s pass the time. So two men, a car, and nobody else.” He continued. “The driver’s trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere.”

“And the hiker’s taking a moment, looking at the sky.” He explained, Reynolds hummed. “Any moment now, something’s gonna happen. What?”

“The hiker’s going to die.” She said.

“No, that’s the result. What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Try to.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Why?”

“Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make an impression. Stop boring me and think.”

She smirked. “It doesn’t bother you, though.” She figured. “The car’s going to backfire.”

Andrew corrected her. “There’s going to be a loud noise.”

“So what?”

“Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance...” He pointed to the ceiling and the smoke alarm started to beep instantly from the hall. He was impressed by how fast Josten kept to the plan.

On their walk here, Andrew had asked Josten to make a small fire using newspaper lit right above the detector, allowimg smoke to drift upwards, triggering the alarm. And thus creating the image of noise to follow his story and to briefly deduct his theory. Reynolds looked around the room, her gaze meeting the fireplace and Andrew grinned. 

And there... his theory worked.

“On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.” Andrew explained. He walked over to the fireplace and began to run his fingers underneath the mantelpiece, finding a switch. Finally skimming over a bump on the underside, he pressed the button. The mirror slid upwards, revealing a small safe behind it. Andrew turned to look at Reynolds who didn’t seem so pleased. She stood up abruptly to stop Andrew but he held out a hand for her to stay where she was. “Really hope you don’t have a baby in there.”

The alarm continued in the background and Andrew sighed. “All right, Josten, you can turn it off now.” The alarm kept on going, no response from the latter.

After what felt like a minute, the alarm stopped at last following a loud sound. Andrew could only imagine Josten throwing a vase at the alarm. Damn. “You should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposits always on the first key used – that’s quite clearly the three – but after that the sequence is almost impossible to read. I’d say from the make that it’s a six digit code. Can’t be your birthday – you wouldn’t be dumb enough to put it for something so precious.”

“I’d tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have.” Andrew frowned at her. “Think.” She mused.

The door had then burst open and it wasn’t so Josten that came in. It was a man with a pistol aimed at them both. Great. Andrew groaned. There was always a gun in any situation Andrew was in, when things were just getting interesting. What was it and the perfect timing of wanting to be 'villains'? To think it would be smart enough to crash Andrew's theories at the right time before he got the goods for himself. He scanned the men for any threat, and wondered why some of them had a large bruise starting to form - yellow in skin and soon to turn purple. Someone must have put up a fight.

“Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still.” A second man went over to Reynolds with a gun to her head. A third came in the room with a feisty Josten in arms. Andrew guessed his friend had put up a fight and the favours, contradicting to the situation, were in Josten's favours. The men were beaten up more than Josten was prior to the intruding.

“Ms. Reynolds, on the floor.” The second man said, yet they didn’t give her the chance as she was thrown to the ground, on her knees. She huffed in amusement to the scenario, to how funny this all would seem come later on.

“Don’t you want me on the floor too?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“No, sir, I want you to open the safe.” The man had an accent as he spoke.

“American. Interesting. Why would you care?”

The man glanced across to Reynolds as she put her hands behind her head, grinning.

“Sir, the safe, now please.” Andrew grabbed the man’s shirt collar, knowing well he wouldn’t shoot him if he was the only one who could presumably open the safe. The man stiffed up momentarily.

“Don’t say that word.” Andrew snarled into his face, then let the man go and waved his hands towards the safe. “And I don’t know the code.”

“We’ve been listening. She said she told you.”

“Well, if you’d been listening, you’d know she didn’t.”

“I’m assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I’m assuming you know it Mr. Minyard.”

“For fuck’s sake. She’s the one who knows the code. Ask her, you fucks.” Josten growled, which sent a small wack to the back of his head to shut him up once more.

“I'm tired of this one.” Josten's guard told the captain. ”Doesn't know when to shut up. Never in my life have I had a kid rant to me about how pathetic my life was from choosing this job over anything other than this job.”

“Yeah, yeah. We'll deal witg him later.” Captain shoved the guy off.

“Fuck you.” Josten snarled. “Just ask the naked chick for the pass!”

“Well if you were competent, you'd know that she also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I’ve learned not to trust this woman.” Reynolds laughed and the man frowned.

Josten tried to trash out of the man's grip, however no luck from the height and body difference. “I'll show you competent-”

“Oh. Andrew doesn’t know.” Allison smirked, interjecting so Josten didn't get himself killed right away. She at least had some decency.

“Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship.”

Andrew silently wondered what Allison Reynolds could have done to end up in a position like so. Then he remembered the case they were looking into, and it all made sense. A diva. She was a complete diva who got her way, who had angered many people and those people were after her. 

“Archer, at the count of three, shoot the kid. Screw waiting.” He pointed to Josten and Andrew whipped his head around to the Captain.

“I don’t have the code.” He snapped.

The third man - Archer - pressed the muzzle of his pistol into the back of Josten’s head, happily to do so. Josten spat onto the man's shoe and Archer cocked his gun in place. He seemed to have been waiting to do this since meeting the lad.

“One.” The leader said.

“I don’t know the code.” Andrew told him.

“Two.”

“She didn’t tell me. I don’t fucking know it. You lay one hand on him and I swear to god.”

“I’m prepared to believe you any second now.” Andrew looked to Reynolds who stayed quiet during the whole affair, but a look of guilt crossed her face. She seemed to be thinking on whether Josten’s life or the items in her safe were more important.

“Three.”

“Stop.” Andrew growled.

The leader help up his free hand to stop Archer from firing. Josten closed his eyes and Andrew's gaze became distant as he looked at the safe.

As the man watched him closely, Andrew slowly reached out a finger towards the keypad and punched some numbers in. The safe beeped and noisily unlocked. He knew the impact of what would happen, and as long as he did his math right, all would go well.

In the distance, Reynolds smiled.

“Thank you, Mr. Minyard. Now open it.”

Twisting the button that would open the safe, Andrew looked across to Reynolds again who lowered her gaze to the floor and made a tiny jerk with her head.

He then turned back to the safe.

Knowing well what would happen, Josten threw himself to the floor at the same moment Andrew pulled open the door to the safe while ducking down below the fireplace. Inside the safe, a tripwire attached to the door tugged on the trigger of a pistol. The gun fired and Archer – who happened to be standing directly in front of it – was shot in the chest. Andrew grabbed for the leader’s pistol and Reynolds savagely elbowed the second man in the groin. Andrew then held the silencer’s end and smashed the tip across the Captain's face, the man dropped to the floor unconscious.

As Reynolds' guard crumpled under her blow, she grappled for his pistol and aimed it down at him. As her guard tried to get up, she slammed the gun across his face and knocked him unconscious next to his dead friend. 

As she was distracted, Andrew reached into the safe and took her precious item without anybody's knowledge.

All the while Josten kicked at Archer’s corpse. “Well, he’s dead.”

“That was fun.” Reynolds chimed.

“There’ll be more of them. They’ll be keeping an eye on the building.” Andrew said.

Josten tucked Archer’s pistol into the back of his pants and followed Andrew out. Reynolds went over to the safe and stared into it with wide eyes by the time Andrew and Josten were out of the room and heading down the hall.

Andrew checked all rooms to see if there were any more men. It did not seem like it, so he went back into the sitting room where Reynolds turned to stare at him with a scowl.

Andrew looked to Josten. “Check outside. See how they got in.”

Josten nodded and headed off. Andrew then fiddled with the item he stole from Reynolds' safe and smirked. “You seem quite popular.” He told Reynolds.

“And that’s mine.” She held out her hands. As if Andrew would just give it to her. He ignored Reynolds and looked at the item in hand. It was a phone with a lock that read:  _I AM_ with four spaces for a code.

“All the photographs are on here, I presume.”

“I have copies, of course.” She tilted her chin up.

Obvious lie. “No you don’t. You’ll have permanently disabled any kind of up link or connection. Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldn’t be able to sell them.”

Reynolds lowered her hand. “Who said I’m selling?”

Andrew looked down at the dead and unconscious bodies lying on the floor. “Well, why would they be interested? Whatever’s on the phone, it’s clearly not just photographs.”

“That camera phone is my life, Andrew. I’d die before I let you have it.” She tried again, holding out her hand to take it. “It’s my protection.”

He heard Josten call out his name in some rooms next door. “It was.” He commented, and ran out of the room with Reynolds shouting from behind. Upstairs in the bedroom, Andrew found Josten. He was looking at Sarah lying on the floor, wide eyes and not moving.

When seeing Andrew, Josten showed him the open window that seemed broken in. Reynolds came in shortly after, and her lip twitched when she saw Sarah on the floor. 

“She’s just out cold.” Josten informed her, but anger flashed onto her face was directed towards Andrew. 

“Well, she’s used to that, but it’s good to know.” She informed, trying to stay calm. “Now, there’s a back door. Better check it, Neil.” She inquired and Josten looked between the two and sighed, heading out yet again, leaving the two in peace.

Reynolds went over to the dressing table, stroking the hems of the wood. “You’re very calm.” Andrew said. She stared at him blankly. “Your trap did just kill a man.”

She shrugged. “He would have killed me. It was self defense in advance.” Walking across to him, Andrew looked down at her hand quickly. But he was slow in comparison.

She raised her hand and stabbed him in the neck with a syringe. He tried to grab her but lost balance slightly, grabbing his skin to sniff out whatever that was.

“What is that?” He growled.

Stumbling some more, Andrew fell to the floor on both hands and knees. Reynolds held out her hand to him. “Give it to me. Now.”

Andrew’s vision went fuzzy. Grunting, he tried to get back to his feet. “No.” He said. He wouldn't give it to her, no matter what happened. He had to fight it off, had to try and get out of the room. Away from her. 

“Give it to me.” She emphasized each word. Her look was furious and Andrew wondered why an urge was forming. To be impressed over her tactics, her determination, how she feared nothing of the man. It almost made him laugh. However, no matter how persistent Reynolds was, he didn’t loosen his grip on the phone either way. “No.” He repeated.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” She grabbed the phone from his hand. “Thank you, dear. Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They’re not for blackmail, just for insurance.” She said, putting the phone inside her pocket. Andrew looked at her through blurry vision, smirking at the outcome from all this. Her win. She was a dead girl walking.

“Besides, I might want to see her again.” Reynolds grinned. “Goodnight, Andrew Minyard. I hope you can one day forgive me.”

 

 

Neil couldn’t find anybody in the premise, and wondered why Minyard found Reynolds so interesting all of a sudden. She was quite feisty, the sort that got Minyard's attention. He already fought three guards, already tried to set a newspaper on fire to cause an alarm and got punched by his friend. All to just collect an object from a safe. What a day. What a fucking day. Not to mention Phil back home.

Oh, god. Phil was back home.

Out of the room he was prior to being in, Neil opened the door to find Reynolds holding a phone in hand and some actual clothes on for once. Even if it was just a coat over her slim form. Yet something caused alarm in Neil's mind. She was hovering over a man's sleeping body and Neil's eyes widened once realizing that the man was  _actually_ Andrew Minyard. “Fuck." He snarled. "What are you doing?”

“He’ll sleep for a few hours, don’t worry. Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse.” Reynolds said, now sitting on the windowsill of the room, getting ready to leap out.

Neil picked up a syringe on the ground and furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s this? What have you given him?”

“I said he’ll be fine. I’ve used it on loads of my friends.” She smirked. Neil leaned down next to Minyard, trying to wake him up. “You know, I was wrong about him. I think he did know where to look.” She said. Neil simply gave her a questioning look.

“For what? What are you talking about?”

“Many things. The key code to my safe and about you, specifically.”

“What does that mean...?”

She looked down to Minyard.

“The key code were my measurements.”

To this, she pushed her feet against the edge of the window and toppled backwards, holding what looked like a cord that helped her out to building. Neil hurried over to the window and looked out while Andrew tried vainly to lift himself up but continued to fall back helplessly. Neil turned back to Minyard and swore. What was happening?

Yet there was something Reynolds never answered. The second part of her statement. How and why did Minyard know where to look on Neil? 

Neil simply crouched down, wondering _what the fuck?._

 

 

Andrew woke up, back at the crime scene in the country, sitting in the driver’s seat of Phil’s car. He looked around to see why or when did he get here. Reynolds was standing outside clinging onto the ledge of the rolled-down window and looked at him urgently. He knew this wasn’t reality, yet it felt real enough. It was his mind playing tricks on him, a dream, his conscious keeping himself occupied as he was sleeping back in his current body.

“I understand.” Reynolds spoke, her voice echoing inside his head. Her face was fuzzy and everything spun.

Blinking and trying to clear his mind, Andrew turned to get out of the car but Reynolds held up a finger to stop him. “I’ll do the talking.” She said.

With a blink, the scene changed and Andrew found himself outside of the car. Reynolds pointed to the exhaust pipe. “So the car’s about to backfire, and the hiker, he’s staring at the sky. Now, you said he could be watching birds but he wasn’t, was he?”

Andrew found himself unable to speak inside the weird dream. Reynolds' gaze followed to the now-seen hiker in the field, appearing as a blur. “He was watching another kind of flying object. The car backfires and the hiker turns to look-” Complying to Reynolds theory, the same object flied in so rapidly that Andrew couldn't see what it was. It struck the imaginary hiker on the back of the head, bounced off and skimmed quickly away into the stream. The man fell backwards and in a brief moment, they were standing around the hiker's dead body. Reynolds looked down. “-which was his big mistake. By the time the driver looks up, the hiker’s already dead. What he doesn’t see is what killed him because it’s already being washed downstream.”

Floating at the edge of the stream was a boomerang. The most unlikeliest of objects or weapon. Funny.

“An accomplished sportsman recently returned from foreign travel with a boomerang. You got that from one look? Neil is a lucky man.” Reynolds smirked. Andrew frowned. He tried to blink. He should be awake. Why wasn't he waking?

Visions came into view. Of the crime scene. Of the events that happened. Of Reynolds' smirk and Josten’s face. Everything at once before Andrew jerked back into consciousness and found himself alone in his bedroom, back at 221B. He was back. He breathed in and out slowly.

Andrew threw the sheet off his body and brought his feet round the edge, dangling them. In that moment, Josten opened the bedroom door and his face grew with worry. “You're awake.” He stated the obvious.

“How did I get here?” Andrew asked quickly, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“Well, I don’t suppose you remember much, you weren’t really making a lot of sense. But I brought you here.”

Andrew’s lip twitched. “Where is she?”

“Where’s who?”

“The woman. _That_ woman.”

“What? Oh. Allison Reynolds? She got away. No one saw where she went.” Andrew stood up from the bed, scowling and his heartbeat raced. “What are you-” Josten furrowed his eyebrow. “Oh. No. No! Sleep, Andrew. You need it.”

“Of course I’ll be fine. I am fine. I’m absolutely fine.” Andrew hissed.

“Andrew calm down.” Josten lifted his hands to help Andrew, but stopped when the latter stared at him, seeming angry over the whole ordeal. He was. His mind was racing and he felt anger and stress and fuck. This was not happening. Not again. “Nothing happened. You were fine. Nobody touched you.” Neil said and Andrew’s mind collapsed.

He went back to many memories, bad ones he never wanted to recall. His mind was always busy, always trying to think of something else to keep the memories out. A reason why he chose this damn job, but if it meant being in a situation which he couldn't help but lose and fall without noticing the symptoms, without being quick enough to stop it or fight back. It just brought him back to the start. Back to his childhood. Back to all the days he plead, to all the days he spent crying. He thought they were over, that he wouldn't deal with it anymore. He tried to tell himself that the monster was dead. That he couldn't harm Andrew anymore.

That was what Bee would say.

So, yes. He was fine. Everything was okay. He wasn’t touched, wasn’t hurt. Those same phrases were repeating over and over again inside his head, which then Andrew realised, he wasn't the ones thinking it. It was what someone was repeating to him. “-you're okay, Andrew. It’s me. Neil. Not him. You’re fine. Nothing happened, we are both okay and alive. Listen to me, Andrew.” Josten said in his calming voice, luring Andrew to listen. “Now let me go and breath.” Andrew looked down and realised he was gripping onto Josten’s shirt, breathing into his face. Josten held a calm look and didn't touch the other, letting Andrew do what he had to do and trusted the blond. Andrew let him go.

Fuck him if he thought all this would be over. 

“It was so easy.” Andrew said.

“What was easy, Andrew?”

Andrew didn’t reply to that and frowned. “Get out.” He snarled.

Josten sighed. “I’ll be next door if you need me.”

Andrew breathed in, took out a cigarette and walked towards the window. Josten went out of the room and shut the door behind him. Andrew rested his head on the wall and looked down. He shouldn’t be thinking about the past, nor should he be panicking after years of being _okay_. Why was it happening again? Why _now_?

He closed his eyes. It would be a first if he didn’t so blame Reynolds for what she did. If it was his items, his possessions, he would have done the same. She was no harm, nothing. She wasn't the problem here, it was Andrew's past that was interfering. Yet something about her made him want to strangle the life out of her. Maybe because she reminded him of so many people at once. People he didn't want to be in contact with ever again - even if they were all dead. He repeated to himself that he wouldn't hurt others, he wouldn't be hurt, and that he was okay.

But deep in his mind, Andrew thought that maybe he still wasn’t. That he was maybe still as messed up as ever. He sighed and blew out another strand of smoke.

 

 

Neil was sitting at the table in the living room, trying to rest on the couch when Minyard came in, seeming rather okay than before. They didn’t talk about what happened. They didn’t actually talk at all. They just did their own things, Neil trying to sleep on the couch, Minyard sitting on the kitchen table - pondering.

He wished he could help his friend, but Neil had no advice to give. He didn't live the way Andrew did, did not witness what he witnessed. Had his own demons to fight that even Neil himself didn't know how to deal with. He just assured Minyard that he was there no matter what. That he wouldn't run away, that he wasn't going to be like all the others. That they were okay.

Not long after, Aaron decided to join the party, which to be honest, didn’t really brighten the mood. Neil decided to make some cereal for himself as both of the brothers argued a little over the case at hand.

Neil didn’t know what changed in Minyard’s mind to realise that Reynolds wasn’t the threat here. From how it sounded, he didn't seem tense because of her. It was caused by something else. Someone else. Perhaps there was a bigger threat in the world and Neil felt like punching whatever it was, whoever it was, all because he spent a little too long with Minyard. Perhaps he became too attached. Neil didn't know if this was bad or good, it had never happened before. Not since he was ten.

“They're safe. The photos." Minyard told Aaron.

“They are perhaps safe, but in the hands of a fugitive sex worker.” Aaron scrunched up his nose.

“She’s not interested in blackmail, nor does she likes that title. I'd respect her if I were you. She wants protection for some reason." Minyard rolled his eyes towards his brother who simply never understood how his brother's mind worked. Neil clicked his tongue. "I take it you’ve stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?”

“How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.” Aaron slumped down on the couch as Minyard smoked through the living room window. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, perhaps Neil could join him one time. He didn't like smoking in general, ruined the form, but it reminded him of his mother. Even if she wasn't the healthiest herself, towards Neil she was what kept him safe this whole time.

Neil crunched on his cereal and watched the two boys from afar, not wanting to go closer than this.

“She’d applaud your choice of words.” Minyard mumbled blankly. “You see how this works. That camera phone is her ‘get out of jail´card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Aaron.”

“Though not the way _she_ treats royalty.” Neil added.

“Did you know there were other people after her too? Before you sent Josten and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess.” Minyard blew smoke into Aaron's line of sight.

Betsy came over and brought in a plate of drinks from the kitchen, putting them on the coffee table for all boys. “It’s a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Aaron.” She looked at him with cold eyes. Aaron frowned but said nothing, looking away. He never once said something to her since he became closer to Andrew. She looked to Minyard with a smile, disregarding the one who gave her the cold shoulder. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“There’s nothing you can do and nothing Reynolds will do as far as I can see.” Minyard told her and she nodded with a smile, turning to take her leave.

“I can put maximum surveillance on the woman.” Aaron suggested.

“Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter.” Minyard huffed

Aaron scowled. “Yes. Most amusing.” Then his phone rang and he took it from his pocket, answering it and leaving the room. Minyard watched him leave, frowning suspiciously. Neil looked at him for a while as Minyard seemed to digest the information and make things click inside his mind.

Minyard caught notice of this. “Staring.” He noted.

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Neil leaned his elbows on the table, resting his head against the palm of his hand.

Minyard looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where do you get that idea?”

Then Aaron came back into the room, still talking on his phone. “-Bond Air is a go, that’s decided. Check with the Coventry lot. I'll talk later.” He hung up and sighed. Neil wondered if any conversation Aaron had with anybody, consisted of any longer phrases than five words. Because all that seemed like it was key-word situation. Words you'd use to explain a story to a child. Considering the reasin, might as well keep it at that.

“What else does she have?” Aaron looked at Minyard inquiringly as to question who. “Allison Reynolds. The Americans wouldn’t be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There’s more, isn’t there? Much more.” Minyard got off from the window and stepped closer to his brother. “Something big’s coming, isn’t it?”

“Allison Reynolds is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this.”

Minyard locked eyes with Aaron. “Oh, will I?”

“Yes, Andrew, you will.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.” Minyard frowned.

Aaron gave a look of puzzlement and glanced over to Neil then back to Minyard. “It would be wise if for once you did, if not make Neil tell you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Aaron said and walked out of the door. Minyard flipped him the bird as he exited and Neil laughed slightly.

However the laugh was more towards wonder. On what all this would come to in the end.

 

 

It was Christmas.

Neil’s first Christmas that didn’t involve spending the day inside a storage room, alone or on the run. Even then, his father did not celebrate the matter. Found that chopping up corpses was his bliss for the holiday.

However, the overall season _was_ blissful considerably. He didn’t know life could become this different from what he was used to. Sometimes he didn’t even know if this was all still real. It felt like a continuous dream. 

Fairy lights were strung up around the window frame of their apartment (in courtesy of Matt and Dan) and it was somewhat snowing outside which was a miracle to how little it did in England. The living room was scattered with Christmas decorations and presents. Minyard was drinking hot chocolate on the sofa, snuggled up in a blanket and watching everyone else talk while he sulked alone like the drama queen he was. Neil was besides him, a feet apart from one another but sharing the same blanket. Pondering as well, but a little less dramatic and more soaking in what he found to be _new_.

Betsy was sitting in a chair with a glass of wine in her hand, chatting along with Wymack and Abby. Abby was a nice person, Neil found, he sort of enjoyed her company as he did with everyone else. Boyd and Wilds were playing board games with Walker, and even sometimes Neil and Minyard joined along if it was something that did not involved getting out of their cozy spot.

And to top it all off, everyone - minus Minyard, of course - wore a Christmas sweater and dressed up for the occasion. Boyd gave Neil some of his outfits to match his own. It was fun, Neil had to admit. He even had a Santa hat at some point before Dan stole it to complete her round of a board game called Cranium. 

Neil kicked Minyard’s foot a little bit, the latter looking at Neil with a frown. “I think you’d suit wearing the antlers. Boyd had them set out for you.”

“Some things are best left to the imagination.” Minyard muttered as he sipped his overly sweet coffee.

“Hey Andrew.” Neil smiled, Andrew kept his gaze. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For this.”

Minyard sighed. “It’s not worth the thanks.”

“Really?” Neil raised an eyebrow.

“You’re more of a math problem.” Neil laughed to that. “No, on the contrary, you are a pipe dream. A hallucination.”

“But I’m not.” Neil mused. Minyard rolled his eyes then continued to ignore him and left Neil to wonder.

Everyone gathered round for presents, Walker suggested at least. They were all close by the fireplace and gave each other their gifts. Neil didn’t expect anything but was surprised when all Walker, Boyd and Wilds, gave him a gift. Inside was a winter coat, a dark one.

“You didn’t have anything to warm yourself up. It was depressing.” Boyd smiled.

Neil thanked them, caught back by the act. It turned out Minyard was offered the same thing, yet instead, he just shrugged the gift as if it were nothing. Everyone knew well enough that the shrug meant he was somewhat okay with the present. 

“Andrew, do you know who this is from?” Walker spoke up, handing him a gift. It was gifted elegantly and was addressed to him. Minyard took it from her with a frown, not having expected anything else. Neil’s eyebrows drew together. Minyard opened it and took out a phone. To this, Neil’s jaw set.

Minyard stared at it, then scowled. Walker noticed of course, and suggested they started up on setting the table. So everyone left the room to help, besides Neil and Minyard.

“I think we’re going to find Allison Reynolds tonight.” He told Neil.

“Thought Aaron had that solved.” Neil stared at the phone, not meeting Minyard’s eyes.

“No,” He said. “I mean we’re going to find her dead.”

 

 

Neil and Minyard ended up at the morgue after finishing up with the party.

They asked Walker if she had any new bodies, she said she did but it was considered a Jane Doe. Neil looked to Minyard and sighed, of course that meant only one thing. Without hesitation, Walker accompanied them after the party, after the guests left with goodbyes and new fond memories. She probably wondered what they were invested in this time.

Walker still wore her Christmas sweater with her lab coat over top as she pilled open a body, covered with a white sheet. “The only one that fitted the description. Had her brought here.” Smiling, she gestured to the body. “The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult.” Then she pulled the sheet down to reveal the face. It was her, Neil could tell even by looking at the deformed features. Reynolds would hace cried if she saw herself like that.

“That’s her.” Minyard said, face blank.

“Who is she?” Walker asked.

Neil went to say something, but Minyard wasn’t there. He probably left the morgue, which was expectant at least. Walker gave a half-smile and nodded that Neil could go after him, that he wouldn't get murdered if he interrupted Minyard's private session. He did so and found the blond smoking in the hallway, slouching on the ground along a wall.

He sat next to him, looking at the white wall in front and took the cigarette from Minyard’s hand. Minyard, however, didn’t do anything about it and had just let Josten smoke on his own. “Thought you wouldn’t be a smoker. Especially not one in a hospital wing.”

“I’m not.” He said and took a drag.

Minyard pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it. They both smoked in silence for a while wondering what the case would be now as Allison Reynolds was no more. Many people walked by and stared at them in horror for the act they were doing on both Christmas day and at a hospital where people died because of the issues involving smoking. Both boys had no care left in them.

“Smoking indoors – shouldn’t there be a law for it?” Neil mused, after the topic finally breached up.

“We’re in a morgue. There’s only so much damage you can do.” Minyard inhaled deeply and then blew the smoke out again.

“How did you know she was dead? When you saw the phone?” Neil asked.

Minyard’s nose crinkled up. “She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up.” He looked round at the sound of sobbing. Neil followed his gaze. A family of three were standing on the other side of the doors at the end of the corridor, cuddled together and clearly grieving the death of someone close to them. “Look at them. They all care so much. A pity.”

“Caring is not an advantage, Andrew.” Neil assured him. “It just happens. Doesn’t make us any different if we happen to care about something.”

“Well I care about nothing.”

“And I thought you never lie.” Minyard blew out another lungful of smoke into Neil’s face. Neil huffed at Minyard's actions, for the dramatic piece of shit he was. “Well," He looked to him as Minyard started to walk away. "Merry Christmas, Andrew.” 

 

 

The next morning Betsy walked across to the table and picked up the plates from the previous night, looking at Neil pointedly to make him realise that they should have cleaned up after themselves - or perhaps it was a different kind of look. Neil wasn't good with facial expressions. Neil smiled her way, a tired smile that held little to no effort while Minyard was in his own world. Staring up at the ceiling while lying down on the couch opposite end to Neil, he looked zoned out. Minyard slept there the previous night after they returned from the morgue, as he mentioned he didn’t feel like walking to his room. There was a small controversy on who got the longer half the the blanket, but being in each others company was nice to say the least. And the blanket was later equally shared.

“What are you thinking about?” Neil asked.

“The phone.” He said sharply.

Nothing else more. Neil sighed.

“I’m heading out for a bit. Going to get coffee from the cafe next door as we ran out, like, four days ago.” He told him. Minyard hummed and let him be. So Neil got off the couch and had put on his new coat. He called out a goodbye to Betsy and trotted down the stairs.

Once he got to the bottom and opened the apartment door, a woman was standing just in front. She smiled at him. “Neil?”

“Yeah?” He questioned. He stopped mid-step and the woman just smirked, looking at him rather flirtatiously. He blinked and wondered what she wanted. “Hello?” He asked warily.

“So, any plans for tonight?”

“No.” Neil let out.

The woman looked over her shoulder towards the road. “Good. You’re in need.”

Neil followed her gaze and sighed in exasperation when a black car pulled up and stopped beside them. It was probably Aaron, that rich fucker. They both got into the car and headed away, taking them to a rather large building. A factory? A workplace? Neil had never been here before, never been into this area. It seemed almost abandoned.

Pulling up inside the building, Neil and the woman got out as she led him through the abandoned structure. “Couldn’t we have just gone to a cafe? Perhaps even at our fucking apartment. If Aaron’s so desperate-” The woman interrupted him with a cough.

“Through there.” She pointed to a hallway and Neil looked past it. It seemed like something out of a mental hospital. Great. The woman left to the opposite direction, typing something on her phone. Josten gave her a look as she disappeared back the way she came.

Neil closed his eyes and went through the hallway, reaching a large room round the curb. Yet there was nobody there, nobody anywhere. It was quite sketchy to say the least, Neil’s instinct was to run, to flee, however he knew better than that nowadays.

He walked further into the room and finally a figure began to step out of the shadows at the other end. Neil squinted his eyes to see who it was and his eyes widened, stammering on incoherent words.

Allison fucking Reynolds.

How was this fucking possible? She was _dead_.

“Hello.” She smirked. Reynolds stopped some distance away from Neil as he simply stared at her for several seconds.

“You were dead. Fucking dead.” Neil finally accused.

Reynolds shook her head. “They’d come after me.”

Neil scoffed. “Yeah. That’s the least of your problems.” Knowing Minyard, after what she did, after what he experienced, she needed a rather large apology to fit in his book. But then it hit Neil. It made sense now to why she gave away her phone. “You were dead on a slab, it was definitely you. I’m... confused.”

“DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep.” She explained.

“And I bet you know the record-keeper.” Neil rolled his eyes. She knew everyone it seemed. Got around with everyone. She was one hell of a powerful woman, and Neil knew well enough not to mess with them.

“I know what they like, and I needed to disappear.” She told him. Of course that would be the answer. Neil knew what it meant to fix some information to make it seem like you wouldn’t be a burden to the world anymore, what it meant to disappear. It never took them long enough to realise after all, everybody was caught in the end until one of the pair were dead.

“Then how come I can see you? Why me?” Neil frowned.

Reynolds sighed. “Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Andrew for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help.”

Neil laughed. “No.”

“It’s for his own safety.”

“Have you met him?” Neil's mouth twitched. “You need to tell Andrew you’re alive, he needs reason to pursue this case. You are the key to solving a very fine mystery that we haven’t had in weeks. He’s keen on trying to figure it out.” Neil told her as she remained silent. He waited a while, yet nothing. “Fine. I’ll tell him, and I still won’t help you.” He turned to walk away.

Finally, Reynolds stopped him short, with a set of words. “What do I say?”

“Text him.” Neil looked round his shoulder to her. No remorse on his face as he replied.

Reynolds laughed. “Under any other circumstance I feel like you and I would get along.”

“Yeah, sure. Perhaps after you deal with this whole fiasco and stop making our lives so difficult.” He was fully turned around now, walking back to her.

Reynolds took out her phone - a different phone and started typing something. “He won’t respond. He never does.”

“You text him?”

“Duh.”

“You do realise it would lead to nothing right?”

“Oh, I know. I just get bored. I know I won’t get anything from him, so it helps me practice my ways. I’m a very observant person, truth be told. Why do you ask? Are you jealous?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Why would I be jealous?” Neil looked at her with confusion.

Reynolds chuckled. “You’re a couple, aren’t you?”

“No, we’re not.” Neil looked to her confused. Him and Andrew?

“Let’s settle this then. Which way do you swing?”

“I don’t swing.”

“Bullshit. I need more than that.”

Neil sighed again. “I just never liked anybody.”

“That’s bound to change then. You like Andrew, no?”

“As friends?”

“More.”

“I’m not gay.”

“Well, I am.”

Neil laughed quietly.

“Partially.” She added.

Minus the fact about what Reynolds did, what she would continue to do, she was a rather fun person to be around. Maybe she was right when she said that under any other circumstance, they could be friends. They talked for a while until she had to be off. She wished him luck on the case, and told him she wouldn’t be any help. That they had to find it out themselves. But she was there, she would be around. Always.

 

 

Andrew was walking down Baker Street towards the flat, his gaze was distant and lost. He decided to take a walk to see if it would give him more clues, more hints. All because of the phone. It could be anything yet he was stuck with nothing. Any other case and it would've been fine but this - this was a whole other story. A case he wanted to crack.

As he arrived at the front door of 221B and turned to put his key in the door, his expression sharpened when he realised that the door had been picked. Slowly pushing it open, Andrew went inside and stepped through the hall. Immediately saw that the door to 221A was ajar, and partway down the hall was a plastic bucket. He took a quick glance at the various items inside the bucket and found only cleaning products. Andrew furrowed his eyebrows.

Looking more closely at the staircase wall, he saw a small indentation in the wallpaper. Putting a finger against the dent, his gaze became more intense. He scowled. It seemed like it was formed by someone dragging their hand along the wall, clawing at it in a desperate attempt to stop themselves being hauled up the stairs.

The depth of the nail mark could only have been made by someone with fairly long nails. Andrew expression changed from thoughtful to outright anger.

Bee was in trouble.

He stared intensely up the stairs and slowly, he started to open the door.

In front of the fireplace Bee was sitting on a dining chair facing the sofa, strapped in, and behind her stood the leader that Andrew remembered from Reynolds' home. He was holding another pistol, aiming the gun at the back of Bee’s head. One of his men was standing looking out of the window as if he was guarding the place. The other stood near the kitchen. As Andrew slowly strolled into the room with his hands clasped behind his back, Bee began to tear up a little bit. “Andrew.” She said.

“Don’t snivel, Bee. It’ll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet.” Andrew looked to the leader. “What a tender world that would be. Do I get a name yet, or are we still on the anonymous basis?”

“My name is Nelson and I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Minyard.” He spoke. Oh, Nelson. What a mistake you made.

“Then why don’t you just ask for it?” Andrew tilted his head. He walked closer and held out his right hand towards Bee. She gently turned back the sleeve of her right hand and Andrew looked at the bruises on her wrist. Anger rushed through Andrew’s face.

“I’ve been asking this one. She doesn’t seem to know anything.” Andrew ignored Nelson and looked to Bee’s right shoulder, the shirt had been ripped at the seam, exposing her skin underneath. “But you know what I’m asking for, don’t you, Mr. Minyard?” Nelson continued to speak. Andrew looked a little higher and saw a cut on Bee’s right cheek. His eyes flicked across to Nelson’s right hand holding the pistol. He had a silver ring on his third finger and there was a tad bit of blood on the base. His lip twitched. It was easy to pinpoint weak spots on Nelson’s body, especially if they would be useful. Carotid Artery visibility, his skull right out in the open, eyes unprotected, radial artery burst on right hand, bad lungs from smoking, cracked ribs. Everything that Andrew could use to hurt him.

His blank eyes met Nelson’s. “I believe I do.” Andrew smiled. “First, get rid of your boys.”

“Why?” Nelson tensed.

“I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room and I’m not feeling it today.”

Nelson hesitated for a moment, then glanced at his colleagues, nudging them away. “Get in the car.” He told them.

Andrew scoffed. “Then get into the car and drive away. Don’t try to trick me. You know who I am and it doesn’t work.” The two other men left the room and headed down the stairs. “Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me.”

"So you can point a gun at me?”

“I’m unarmed.”

“Mind if I check?”

“Sure.” Andrew smirked menacingly, silently daring him to.

Nelson came around and walked over to Andrew. But before he could lay a finger on him, Andrew grabbed his armed hand and twisted it firmly enough that Nelson screamed in pain. He kicked Nelson backwards, and Nelson stammered back. With a wince, he tried to balance up and angrily walked over to Andrew. The latter, however, rolled his eyes and headbutted him savagely in the skull. Nelson fell back onto the coffee table and banged his head on the corner, falling into unconsciousness. “Pathetic.” Andrew snarled.

Andrew went over to Bee and untied her. She thanked him and Andrew looked over his shoulder towards Nelson’s prone body, his expression still promising murder. He had to contain himself, even if he wished death upon the male. He had to make sure Bee was alright, because that was what mattered most in the end, it was top priority. He wasn't like before, he was different. He _wanted_ to be different, let alone never wanting anything.

Not long afterwards, Josten came back from a rather long coffee trip, oblivious to everything. Putting his coat away, coffee in hand, he went over to the living room and froze. Noticing the man who tried to kill Reynolds, now bound to a chair, his eyes widened at the scenery. The man's nose was broken, blood streamed down his face and dripped from his chin onto the chair. Andrew would admit he might have gone a bit overboard with the remains of Nelson's person when he gained consciousness.

“What’s going on?” Josten asked.

Bee was sitting on the sofa, drinking tea and seeming happy that Josten was here. The latter only became more confused. “What the hell is happening? I saw the sign on the front door saying a crime scene was in progress.” Oh, Andrew forgot he put that there. 

“Bee had been attacked by an American. I’m restoring balance to the universe.” Andrew briefly explained.

Josten’s eyebrows knitted together. “Are you both alright?” Bee hummed and Andrew waved a hand to dismiss it. Josten stepped over to Andrew who was glaring at Nelson from the sofa. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“I expect so. Now go help out dear Bee over there.” He said.

They looked at each other for a moment, then Andrew turned his gazed back to Nelson. Josten looked towards the male in question, his face cold and dark. 

Josten, after a moment of hesitation, left the room with Bee at his side, leaving  only Andrew and Nelson alone.

Andrew smirked grimly to the male. The male looked somewhat frightened from what Andrew was capable of doing, from what he had not known prior to the B&E. He then picked up his phone and held it to his ear. It picked up right away. “Wymack. Great. We’ve had a break-in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance.”

"Are you hurt? Is Josten hurt? Bee?" Wymack asked coherently on the other line.

“Oh, we’re fine. And no, it’s for the burglar. He’s got himself rather... badly injured.” Andrew said and Wymack swore on the other end.

“What did you do now?” He asked.

Nelson looked nervous by the way Andrew glared at him. “Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull, suspected punctured lung, blood loss. I should probably say he fell out of a window, let’s bring it down to that if people ask. Probably should come by fast if you don’t want there to be another accident though.” Then Wymack hung up, Andrew vaguely laughed.

 

 

It was cold and dark outside when the ambulance pulled away from the apartment. Andrew watched it leave with a blank stare as Wymack clicked his tongue by his side. Apparently Wymack considered himself the least irritating officer. Andrew could contradict that but with anybody else, he would have not have gotten along well.

“And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?” Wymack asked him.

“It’s all a bit of a blur, David. I lost count.” Andrew told him nonchalantly. Not bothering to comment, Wymack walked back inside. In that moment, Josten came back with coffee from the cafe next door, giving Andrew a cup. Bee was with him and asked where Wymack was, as she had a cup for him as well. Andrew pointed inside and she went to find him.

“I thought you never lied?” Josten asked, sipping his coffee.

“I didn’t. He fell out of the window after I was done with him.” Andrew gave a smug look and Josten huffed. A little later they entered the apartment and found Wymack and Bee sitting on the kitchen table. Bee seemed perfectly fine and this settled Andrew. “She can sleep on the couch tonight, I don’t mind sleeping somewhere else.” Josten suggested.

“No.” Bee insisted.

“I think she’s fine.” Andrew looked to Bee and she nodded.

“No, she’s not. Look at her.” Wymack scoffed, getting up to open the fridge and see what was inside to eat. Andrew was quick to grab the last cake slice from their Christmas party. Wymack frowned. Giving up, he let Andrew to the fridge.

“Do you think we need to see what they’ll do to Nelson after the hospital? Would they just let him go?” Josten asked.

Kicking the the fridge door shut, Andrew frowned at Josten and took a spoonful of ice cream for his topping. “Don’t be absurd. He’s going to jail.”

“What about Betsy? She’s in shock, for fuck’s sake, and all over some fucking camera phone. She needs to leave from here, safer place.” Wymack paced around. “Where is the phone, anyway?”

“Safest place I know.” Andrew forced a smile. Bee reached down inside her top and pulled the phone out of her bra before handing it to Andrew. The look of shock on both Wymack and Josten’s face was worth it all.

“You left it in the pocket of your Christmas shirt.” She smiled. “I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was crying and falling into shock.”

Andrew tossed it into his coat pocket. “Thanks.” He said. Bee smiled his way.

Josten’s jaw set. “Wait, you were faking the whole time?” He asked.

“Of course. You think something like that will make me collapse into tears? I’m a therapist, I deal with these kind of people.” She explained, and Josten gave a huff of surprise, seeming rather impressed but gullible all the same.

Andrew turned to Wymack. “Shame on you, Wymack.” He tutted.

He looked offended. “Shame on me?”

“Betsy Dobson leave Baker Street? England would fall.” Bee laughed and Josten smiled at the male. Whether it was for the situation, maybe it was out of fondness, maybe from the relationship him and Bee had, whatever it was - Andrew memorised every curve. And he had a point.

After Bee left back into her flat, and Wymack went back to spend the rest of the evening with Abby, the two boys were home alone.

Josten fixed himself a drink in the kitchen, Andrew thought he may have been a terrible influence on his friend’s eating habits - Josten had been drinking a lot of tea and coffee lately. The healthy kind but still tea and coffee.

They both slumped down on the couch and sighed. “Where is it now?” Josten asked, knowing well that Andrew wouldn’t keep it in his coat pocket for long.

“Where no one will look.”

“Always keen on details.” Josten laughed, sipping the tea. “Whatever’s on that phone is more than just pictures.”

Andrew hummed. “Yes, it is.”

“So, she’s alive then. How are we feeling about that?”

“Means I get more chances of killing her myself.” The bells of a church rang in the distance to toll the hour. Andrew pulled in a sharp breath. “Happy New Year, Neil.” He said.

Josten tilted his head, and slowly smiled. “Happy New Year, Andrew.”

 

  
The next morning, Andrew observed the X-ray screen portrayed on a computer, which was showing the interior parts of a phone while Renee was nearby, filling out records for the morgue.

Andrew leaned closer to the screen and saw four small round dark areas scattered around the phone. Great. “Is that the phone you got at Christmas?” Renee asked.  

“Yes. It’s a camera phone.” He stated the obvious.

“And you’re X-raying it?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Whose phone was it?”

“A woman’s.”

Renee hummed and smiled. “Must be someone important if she let you have her phone. Or is this another case?”

“Case. We both know well enough that I wouldn’t interact with a woman let alone her possessions.”

“Well, we all do silly things.” She said, as she was hiding something. As if she herself did a ' _silly thing'_.

Andrew looked at her. “Yes.” He said carefully. He lifted his head to the screen again. “They do, don’t they? Very silly.” He thought. It suddenly clicked. Andrew got to his feet and took out to phone from the X-ray machine, holding it up to inspect. “She sent this to my address, question is why? If she was alive all this time....”

He pulled up the password screen and typed 221B into the phone. The phone beeped and a message came up reading:  _Wrong Password. 2 Attempts Remaining_. He looked exasperated and sat down again.

Renee gave him a sympathetic smile and went to get them some cafeteria food for the night.

 

 

A weeks later, Andrew reached the top of the stairs and stopped abruptly outside the kitchen door. Taking a couple more deep breaths, he turned and looked towards the living room window. It was open and if he had remembered correctly, both he and Josten closed it before leaving the house. He checked all rooms to see if anybody had entered the house, yet they were all empty.

Reaching the final room, his bedroom, he pushed the door open as Josten came into the kitchen from his morning run. Andrew didn’t know what to expect but he didn’t so expect Allison Reynolds to be sitting there, waiting for him. She was elegantly dressed and her hair was made up, her red lips quirked up when she spotted Andrew.

Andrew groaned. “Josten get the fuck in here. We have a client.”

“In your bedroom?” Josten called out confused. He shortly came in, quite sweaty and still geared from his jog. Then his mouth fell open when seeing Reynolds.

“Oh.” He said.

“Hello boys.” She smiled.

Josten and Andrew looked between one another.

They soon all made themselves comfortable at the kitchen table. The boys narrowed their eyes whenever Reynolds dared move. It ended up being a constant staring match between them all.

“So who’s after you?” Andrew asked, breaking the silence.

“People who want to kill me.” She said, the first answer she had said all night.

“Who’s that?”

“Killers.”

“It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific.” Andrew clicked his tongue. “So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them.”

“It worked for a while.” She then eyed Josten. Josten stared back rather intentively.

Andrew noticed this. “Except you let Josten know that you were alive, and therefore me.” He added.

“I knew you’d keep my secret.” She grinned, tapping her nails on the wooden table. Observing both boys just as much as they were observing her. She was a dangerous woman, and it would be wise to have her on their side. Perhaps that was what she wanted, perhaps Andrew was confused to whether or not he'd let it happen.

“Yet you couldn’t keep the secret yourself.” Josten clarified.

Reynolds stopped her tapping and pointed her finger at Josten. “But you both did, didn’t you? Where’s my camera phone?” She asked, more sternly this time.

Josten sighed. “It’s not here. We’re not stupid.” He said.

“Then what have you done with it? If they’ve guessed you’ve got it, they’ll be watching you.” She alerted them. Andrew had many people after him, especially now with Josten at his side. This would be nothing compared to who they truly had to deal with. The case about the Wesninskis, the situation with Riko Moriyama. Allison Reynolds and the Americans after her were nothing compared to the Japanese mafia and biggest killer in London.

And in the end, both Andrew and Josten would get through it and fight whoever was needed to be fought.

“If they’ve been watching me, they’ll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank a few months ago.” He assured her.

Reynolds stood up. “I need it.” 

Then Josten stood up, challenging her. “Well, we can’t just go and get it, can we?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled. They seemed friendly, Andrew noticed.

Andrew didn’t waste any time. He reached into his pocket and took out Reynolds' phone. Reynolds' eyes widened at the object. Josten scoffed. “Fuck, Andrew. You had it the whole time?”

He ignored Josten. “So what do you keep on here – in general?” Andrew narrowed his eyes towards Reynolds who sat back down. Josten quickly followed her movement.

“Pictures, information, anything I might find useful.” She said.

“What, for blackmail?” Josten asked.

“For protection. I make my way in the world. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be.” She answered.

“So how do you acquire this information?”

“I just told you.” Andrew rolled his eyes. An aggravating woman she was.

Andrew straightened up. “But you’ve acquired something that’s more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand it.”

“I assumed. Show me.”

Reynolds held out her hand for the phone. Nice try, Andrew thought. “The passcode.” He then demanded. Reynolds continued to hold out her hand and eventually, Andrew gave in and handed it to her.

She gave a smug look and started typing to code. Each four characters. Yet the phone beeped with a warning. “It’s not working.” She noted.

Andrew took the phone from her hand. “No, because it’s a duplicate that I had made, into which you’ve just entered the numbers you would have typed in if it were the actual phone itself.” He pulled out another camera phone - the real one. “I assumed you’d choose something more specific than that.” He said, typing out 1058 for the passcode. The same code she put in the fake one. Yet the phone beeped again and a message came up reading the same,  _Wrong Passcode. 1 Attempt Remaining_.

Andrew frowned. Reynolds laughed. “I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when it’s in my hand and I can smell a fake one from a mile away. I’m pretty good when it comes to fake or real shoes on sale, so of course I'd know a little bit about phones. It's my character trait, I know my possessions.” This time she held out her hand again, taking the real phone from Andrew. Josten pursed his lips as Reynolds and Andrew continued to stare furiously at each other. “There was an MOD officer I knew.” Walking a short distance away from the boys, Reynolds typed in her real passcode and showed them a photo on her device. “One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn’t know it, but I photographed it.” She handed the phone to Andrew. “He was a bit tied up at the time. It’s a bit small on that screen – can you read it?”

Andrew straightened his arm bands as he saw the photograph. A simple code. It read, _007 Confirmed allocation. 4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K._  Josten's head swam in numbers as he stared at the code itself, wondering what the fuck he was looking at. Andrew furrowed his eyebrows in his turn, and listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it. Yet she still couldn’t figure it out.” She said. Andrew leaned forward, concentrating on the screen. “What can you do, Andrew? Go on. Impress me.”

The numbers scattered through Andrew’s brain that it could be said as overwhelming. Opposite him, Josten took a chug of his drink and sat the mug down. The noise resonated in Andrew’s brain and he lifted his own, momentarily in Reynolds' direction. “There’s a margin for error but I’m pretty sure there’s a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it’s going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment, I’ve only been on the case for eight seconds.” He looked at Josten’s blank face in front of him, then glanced round to Reynolds who straightened up. His head was focused on every detail of this room, his mind trying to figure out every combination until he was swarming with information. He flipped through everything he knew, every number on that code and every possibility of what it could be. Finally, his head snapped back to her. “It’s not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet.” 

There was silence in the room.

“There’s no letter I because it can be mistaken for a 1. There are no letters past K – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a double-decker plane is wide enough to need the letter K or rows past fifty-five, which is why there’s always an upstairs in those planes. There’s a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there’s the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more. Assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport.” Andrew then slumped down onto the chair as if bored. “That was way too easy, I was expecting more.” 

Josten scoffed, not believing a word that was being said.

Andrew lowered the phone and looked towards Reynolds, who grinned so wide over finding out the solution. “For a taken gay angry midget...” She smirked as Andrew frowned.

Ignoring her comment, he looked to Josten. “Can you check those flight schedules, see if I’m right?”

Josten took Andrew’s laptop from the living room and set it down, searching for the flight. “You're right. Flight Double-oh-seven.” He soon confirmed.

“What did you say?”

“That you’re right?” Josten asked.

“No. Afterwards. What did you say after that?” Not letting him answer, Andrew repeated the numbers _007_ in his head. Where did he hear that before?

His eyes snap open.

Aaron.

He mentioned on his phone call, saying “Bond Air” before hanging up. Bond Air. 007. Andrew almost laughed.  

“Coventry.” He told them.

“I’ve never been. Is it nice? Might book it soon.” Reynolds said.

“What’s Coventry got to do with anything?” Josten asked.

“It’s a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that Coventry was going to get bombed because they’d broken the German code. But they didn’t want the Germans to know that they’d broken the code, so they let it happen anyways.” Andrew explained.

The door to the apartment opened and Bee came in with a tall man. “Andrew, this man was at the door. Did you not hear the bell?” She asked. Josten shook his head to answer her. There was no bell since Reynolds had talked to them. “Okay good, because he shot it.” She answered the unasked question. They all looked over to the man. Andrew could tell he worked for his brother, he had the same aura and uniform that bodyguards would wear in his case.

“Have you come to take me away?” Reynolds asked.

“Not you.” He said, pointing to Andrew. “Mr. Minyard.”

“Well, I decline.” Andrew shrugged.

The man took out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Andrew. “I don’t think you do.” Andrew snatched it from him and opened it up. Inside was a Business Class boarding pass for Flyaway Airways in the name of Andrew Minyard - flight number 007 to Baltimore. As much as Andrew hated flying, he took the envelope knowing well what this could be. He nudged to both Reynolds and Josten to stay as he grabbed his coat. They looked to each other while Andrew left the apartment, probably wondering why Andrew had to fly a plane at the moment. 

 

 

Apparently the man had his own car, and Andrew decided it would be best for him to leave his own car here, in case Josten needed it. He went into the back seat, a distance away from bellboy at front, and the car drove away. Andrew observed the ticket in hand. There was going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American governments knew about it but rather than expose the source of that information they were going to let it happen. The plane would blow up. Coventry all over again.

Some time later, the car arrived at Heathrow Airport. The car stopped near the plane and Andrew got out of the passengers seat, walking over to the steps which led up to the entry door for the flight. A familiar figure was standing at the bottom of the steps. God fucking dammit, it was Nelson. Brave of him to show his face. Andrew grinned in greeting. “Well, you’re looking all better.”

“I’d rather be putting a bullet in your brain, but all better is the correct term, yes.” He smirked.

“You’re supposed to be in jail, aren’t you not? Or did you decide the fugitive path was the best way to go.” Andrew adjusted his arm bands. The other man flinched.  

However, taking in his pride, Nelson straightened up when he said, “If I did shoot you just here. They’d give me a medal.”

Andrew huffed. Sure they would. He continued up the steps to the plane. Inside, he pulled back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and walked into the aisle. The lighting was very low and it was hard to see but there were people sitting in almost all the seats. Yet none of them seemed to be moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all. Frowning, Andrew walked forward and looked more closely at the nearest passenger. They were all dead. Perhaps for a long amount of time.

“The Coventry conundrum.” Aaron said. Andrew looked at his brother on the other side of the plate as he walked slowly towards him. He gazed around the flight of dead people, a frown on his face in disgust.

“The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies.” Andrew said. “Neat, don’t you think?”

Aaron didn't think it was neat. Andrew just smiled humorlessly. “You’ve been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages – or were you too bored to notice the pattern?” Aaron asked of him.

The pattern. Andrew's nose flared in realisation. He remembered all the people he interviewed in the past week or two. The girls saying their granddad was dead. The creepy guy sitting with an urn, saying that it wasn’t his real aunt. The connections. Andrew glanced towards Aaron who shrugged over the facts. “We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn’t make the flight.”

That was why Boyd asked Andrew about the man who died in the trunk of the car. The man who missed his flight, and suddenly died under unknown circumstances. It was all connected. “But that’s the deceased for you – late, in every sense of the word.”

“How’s the plane going to fly?” There was a moment before Andrew scoffed. “Of course, never mind. Unmanned aircraft. Hardly new.”

“It doesn’t fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can’t fool them now. We’ve lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished.” Aaron explained.

“Your MOD man.” The one Reynolds knew.

“That’s all it takes, one lonely naive man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special.” Oh, how this was interesting.

Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “You should screen your defense people more carefully.”

“I’m not talking about the MOD man, Andrew. I’m talking about you.” To this, Aaron sounded furious. Andrew frowned. He had no connections to Reynolds, and never will. He was only associating with her for the case. “The damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook. The promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption. Then give him a puzzle and watch him dance.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Andrew said. If only Aaron wasn’t so dumbfounded to realise after all these years, why Andrew paid no attraction to woman, didn’t glance their way and didn’t give them the attention they wanted. Why he was so different than Aaron ever was. Maybe his brother’s little dumb mind didn’t want to accept the fact. The fact that he so carefully avoided.

“Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?” Aaron asked of him.

“I think it was less than ten seconds.” Reynolds said from behind Andrew. Andrew rolled his eyes at her presence, wondering where Josten was in all of this. Was he going to show out from the window? Was Boyd going to come out from one of the suitcase? Who was next? Walker? _Gordon_?

“I drove you into her path. I should have never.” Aaron scowled.

Reynolds paid no attention to Andrew as she continued down the aisle towards his brother. Andrew watched as she activated her phone and held it out to show his brother.

“There’s more, loads more. On this phone I’ve got secrets, pictures and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – _unless_ you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother.” She grinned. Aaron stared down at the phone and everyone turned silent.

Oh, Allison Reynolds was good.

Andrew was only slightly impressed. And perhaps because she had a grudge against Aaron as much as he did, she would become a huge asset to the case. A benefactor rather than the threat. But his brother was clearly hiding something, and there was much more for Andrew to know on Allison Reynolds.

 

 

It wasn’t long before Aaron brought them both to his office building. Aaron sat at his rather large desk, with Reynolds and Andrew seated opposite him. Aaron pointed down at the camera phone which was lying on the table in front of him, in the middle of all three of them.

“We have people who can get into this.” Aaron declared.

Reynolds smirked. “I tested that theory for you. I let Andrew Minyard try it for six months.” Andrew’s lip twitched. “Andrew, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone.”

“There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive.” He said flatly. Aaron lowered his head into his hand. “Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive.”

“Explosion.” Reynolds demonstrated with her hands. Then turned to Aaron. “It’s more _me_.”

“Some data is always recoverable.” Aaron challenged.

“Take that risk?” Reynolds leaned forward.

“You have a pass-code to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you.” His eyes never looked away from Reynolds.

“There will be two pass-codes. One to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can’t know which one she’s given you and there will be no point in a second attempt.” Andrew stated.

“He’s good, isn’t he? If only-” Andrew stopped her short. They both gazed at each other attentively. 

“We destroy this. Then no one has the information.” Aaron decided, oblivious to their little untold conversation.

“Fine. Good idea” She shrugged, leaving Andrew to tell Aaron on his own. “Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you’re about to burn.”

“Are there?” Aaron faked a smile.

“Telling you would be playing fair. And I’m not playing any more.” Reynolds pointed out. She reached into her purse and took out an envelope to which she pushed across the table to Aaron. “A list of my requests, and some ideas about my protection once they’re granted.” Aaron looked it over. “I’d say it wouldn’t blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation – but then I’d be lying.” She smiled. Aaron simply raised his eyebrows in amazement as he read through the demands she had listed. She didn’t give him anytime to think, because she said, “Off you go and talk to your fancy people.” She waved him off. Aaron looked at her blankly and she noticed he didn't budge from his seat. With a cold smile, she looked to him sternly. “What did I say?”

Aaron stood up from his chair and turned away, about to go and begin meeting her demands. She smiled in satisfaction, about to get up herself before Andrew stopped her from leaving. “No.”

They both turn to him. “Sorry?” Aaron asked.

“I said no.” Andrew stood up, walking closer to Reynolds. “You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much.”

“No such thing as too much.” Reynolds smiled.

“You say you aren’t the same as others. And indeed you are different, that your case is different. But you are all the same.” Andrew spoke up, and Reynolds tilted her head in wonder. “You pretend you aren’t involved, but after everyone I talked to. Walker, Boyd, Wilds and the way you knew Gordon. Nobody would ever talk to Gordon if there weren’t a connection. It’s far more complicated that that. You are hiding something, you even suggested something out in the open. Boyd couldn’t just channel the name by himself now, could he?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Reynolds said, her gaze becoming more serious. Oh, but she knew.

Andrew took the phone in hand. He punched in the first character to the combination. “Boyd couldn’t just talk to Wymack about changing our precinct name, he needed a bigger power.” He put in the second number. “Wilds said she needed to go on holiday, however if I recall, she mentioned previously that she didn’t have enough money to do these kind of things.” The third number. “You are way more clever than you say you are, because you are the same as us. Walker knew it all along, she just hid it from everyone to protect you. Wymack was clueless to who you really were. Yet you befriended everyone else, didn’t you? Without anybody seeming to get interest in you.” Andrew hit the fourth number and Reynolds stared at him with wide eyes.

She watched the password. The code. The words written in front of her. The simple 4 characters. All to make a sentence instead of a password in it's self.

The numbers 2369, spelling out specifically _a fox_ to fill in the blank. _I am a fox_.

That was her secret and it was laid right in front of Andrew’s eyes.

“Inspector Reynolds.” Andrew said, “You're slow, and this was your case, wasn't it? The plane, the phone, the royal family...” Andrew lifted the phone away and held it out towards Aaron. The phone unlocked and was open to the world. “There you go. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience she may have caused you tonight. The reason why she gave you those protection names, was ecause she is one of us, a private investigator that goes even more undercover than I do, to lay low and get more information than the average human should have known. She does her job through people, through deception and through just about anything to make you think anything other than a detective. She made the password the moment she had suggested the name, so it was harder for others to get it, to break through her secret. A dramatic way to get people's attention. Contained all of her identities of each of her different cases. Even one with the royal family. So that phone is worth everything to her, and should make up for everything she has done for her job. For the country.”

“I’m certain the phone will make up for it, yes.” Aaron seemed bewildered. He took the phone and Andrew turned to walk out of the room.

Reynolds stared after him. “I am a wanted woman. All that deception, all the people I used.” She mused. “I don’t belong to be known.”

“The same could be said for me, for Josten.” He said. “We aren’t much. But we are foxes, after all.”

Reynolds perhaps smiled if not genuinely for the first time. This would be quite a year with the new face. 

 

Andrew blew out smoke from his cigarette, gazing in the distance of the streets and cars. Josten was by his side, settling in the new information. He told him all that happened, saying Reynolds would visit them quite a lot and more frequently help out with cases now that her identity was out in the open, that her secret detective business was no secret anymore. Seth Gordon was rather happy about this, more or less as much as he could be. Wymack promised that he would protect her like they did with each other, to make sure they were supposed to be where they wanted to be, and that nobody could take them from that position. The Foxhole Court was one of the best crime solving districts, and yet the most feared, let alone the most known. They even had the government at their hands with Aaron involved.

Andrew handed Josten a cigarette and the later took it, lighting it and releasing the fumes into the air. After their silent conversation of nothing, just being in the comfort of one another, Andrew gave Josten a plastic wallet which read on the cover: _Restricted Access – Confidential._ Aaron gave it to him the preceding night and inside was the phone itself.

Josten raised an eyebrow. “This the file on Reynolds?” He asked.

“Forever closed. Aaron had to be involved and said that she would be no harm. She had the chance to make up for it, be present at the department and work like any normal inspector. That she is banned from doing any of her usual business to find out information, proceeded by keeping it from superiors. She’s a different kind of detective, the one who knows almost anything but will hide it from anybody but herself. She plays dangerously, so be careful once she comes here.”

“People will still want to kill her.” Josten added on.

“People still want to kill you.”

“True.” 

Andrew side-eyed Josten through the smoke. “You seemed friendly enough with her.”

“She said we could become friends under different circumstances. Her words exactly. Is this what she meant the whole time?”

Andrew stared at him. “Maybe.” He said.

And maybe this could change everything. Maybe it was for the good.

Allison Reynolds was still a mystery to the world, but now she had a purpose. Andrew wondered if the same could be said for Josten. Did he feel the same relief, the same stress, the same drive that Reynolds held. Perhaps that was the case. Perhaps that was the reason Andrew thrived to fix Reynold’s situation, from how much it related to his little friend. But that was something he wouldn’t say to anybody but himself. Something he’d keep for his mind only. He wasn’t used to the feeling and would never tell these thoughts out loud. Josten just caught his interest. And that was it. Even if his mind was telling him otherwise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how are you all feeling about the pass-code?? I had to change it to something TFC related because I couldn't keep "I Am SHER Locked", right? As this may be a Sherlock AU, with Sherlock-esque setting and plot, but it's entirety is TFC with TFC characters. So its designated to follow that path until the end. Therefore, I had to change it up. The question I asked myself throughout writing this, was: change it to BLOODY WHAT?
> 
> That's how this whole shindig of a plot happened. Dunno how I feel about it. But, you gotta have something.
> 
> Anyways, see you all in the next update. It will be posted relatively soon.


	5. Case 5: The Hounds of Baskerville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 2 Season 2 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings: Yeah. There's a lot in this one. Case itself deals with animal testing, murder, rambunctious dogs, animal deaths, hallucinations, panic attacks, PTSD, childhood abuse flashbacks, and a suicide attempt. Some violence but only because of the antagonist this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As i said, this one is early. Please enjoy! (I really love this chapter, tbh.)

The living room door had burst open when Minyard came in, startling Neil awake into the two hour sleep he had. Neil would have asked why he looked so frustrated, however it wasn’t really the time nor did Minyard seem like he was willing to share. He honestly looked like he had killed everything in his path, and not just figuratively. There was some blood patches on his shirt, and his hair was way passed messy, Neil decided to not even fucking _wonder_.

All in all, the bad mood swings were typical behaviours from the blond, Neil grew accustomed to it and would be shocked if Minyard came in all happy and excited. Neil at least could distinguish the variety of emotions his friend has had.

“Well, that was tedious.” Minyard said, slumping down on the couch next to Neil. He barely touching the younger boy's feet, yet Neil felt close. Neil rubbed his eyes to get the crust out of the corners as to fully awaken himself for the day. He then tilted his head towards the blond who clicked on the TV and grabbed a bar of chocolate from, well, inside the couch.

Neil huffed. “You just happen to have chocolate in the couch?”

“Happens frequently. I forget I leave it there in the first place, and when I need it, I suddenly remember it's there.” Minyard told him through a munch. He stopped clicking the buttons of the remote control once it landed on BBC News.

“And you need it now?” Neil asked, curious.

“Yeah. I ran into some trouble.” Minyard said, crunching the food on his teeth with exaggeration. The vague response meant he didn't want to breach the topic.

Neil hummed, agreeing with himself that he did not want to get involved into whatever Minyard was dealing with. It was his problems and he shouldn’t imply himself upon them. Even if they were the wacky one-person-solving cases that probably involved petty problems that caused no hassle whatsoever. Even with that, Minyard found ways to locate hassle. And make it into a war. “So do you have anything?” Neil asked of him.

“I have chocolate."

“I meant about a case."

“No. Nothing.” Minyard muttered.

“There’s a military coup in Uganda.” Minyard made a face, apparently not worth his time. “We could do a cabinet reshuffle?” He suggested as Minyard frowned even more.

“Anything of actual importance?” He asked. Neil shook his head while Minyard clicked his tongue from having nothing to do. His mind needed something to think on, if not, he got cranky. Almost always got cranky. “It’s almost time. People will arrive with lame ass excuses for a problem. Now I know how Bee feels.”

“How I feel what?” Betsy asked as she entered the room just in time for her name to appear into the conversation. Neil raised an eyebrow at the convenience.

“Nothing of importance apparently.” Minyard looked towards her and tilted his head. “You’ve been to see Mr. Chatterjee again.” Betsy furrowed her eyes at the accusation. “New sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking. Thumbnail. Tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don’t we?” Minyard sniffed the air. “Kasbah Nights... Your perfume. Pretty rushed up for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn’t you agree? I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He’s got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about.” Minyard tapped his fingers on the couch arm and faintly smiled. “Well, nobody except me.”

Betsy sighed as Neil rubbed his temples. Looking back to Minyard, he could never keep his mouth shut. “Just because you having nothing better to do, doesn’t mean you ruin other people's plans, Andrew.” He said.

“A shame.” Betsy replied. "I started to like him.”

“I need a case.” Minyard turned to Neil.

“I don’t have one.”

“Look for one.”

“With what?”

“Make one up, I don’t know.”

“I can’t make up a murder. My mind’s not like yours.” Neil said flatly.

“I best leave you two alone then.” Betsy held up her hands and left the room as if the two were having a moment she couldn't bare. Minyard opened his laptop and read his latest emails, sarcasm dripping in his voice. “Dear Mr. Andrew Minyard. I can’t find Bluebell anywhere. Can you help find her?” 

“Bluebell?”

“It’s a fucking rabbit, Josten.” Minyard snarled. Neil’s mouth formed a small _oh_. “But there’s more. Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous -  like a fairy according to little Kirsty who owned it. Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry.” Minyard looked irritated, slamming the laptop shut. “What am I saying? This is brilliant. Phone Wymack. Tell him there’s an escaped rabbit.”

Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

“It’s this, or Cluedo.” Minyard told him.

“Yeah, never again.” Neil thought back to all the weeks they played Cluedo and honestly he wished to never compete against Minyard in these type of things again.

Minyard frowned. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Minyard, that’s why.”

"Well, it was the only possible solution.”

“It’s not in the rules.”

“Then the rules are wrong.”

The doorbell then rang.

Neil held up a finger as Minyard looked towards the living room door. “Single ring.” He noted.

“Maximum pressure just under the half second.” Minyard looked to Neil.

“Client.” They both said simultaneously.

 

 

“Dartmoor. It’s always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real?” The reporter on the documentary said. A client came in, rather anxious and told Neil and Minyard that they should watch the documentary before knowing about the case. They both looked at each other and wondered why they needed to do so, instead of the man explaining the situation himself. “Because Dartmoor’s also home to one of the government’s most secret of operations. The chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, there have been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments. Genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is, are all of them still inside?” The reporter finalised. Then the footage changed to the client in their room, having an interview on the documentary. On screen the caption read: _Henry Knight, Grimpen resident_.

“I was just a kid. It was on the moor.” Henry said on screen, a picture showing a dog that had been drawn by Henry when he was eight. “It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father.”

Minyard grabbed the remote control and switched off the footage. “What did you see?” He asked Henry.

Henry pointed to the TV. “I was just about to say.”

“Yes, in an interview. I prefer to do my own editing.”

“Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. Excuse me.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a paper napkin and wiped his nose.

Neil sighed. “In your own time.”

“But quite quickly.” Minyard added.

Henry lowered his napkin. “Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Minyard?”

“No.” He said lightly.

“It’s an amazing place. It’s like nowhere else. It’s sort of bleak but beautiful.” He explained.

“Not interested. Move on.”

Henry perked up a little in surprise. “Well. Um. We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we’d go out onto the moor.”

Minyard rolled his eyes. “Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?” Neil’s eyes rose from Minyard’s blatant question.

“There’s a place. It’s,” Henry bit his lip. “it’s a sort of local landmark called Dewer’s Hollow.” Minyard stared at Henry to continue. “That’s an ancient name for the Devil.”

“So? Are you saying you saw the Devil that night or something?” Neil asked. The colour drained out of Henry’s face as he seemed to remember the night. He looked across to Neil and nodded.

“It was huge. Coal black fur, with red eyes. I was terrified.” Henry seemed on the burst of tears. “It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I can’t remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad’s body was never found.”

Neil hummed regardless and looked to Minyard. “Red eyes, coal black fur, enormous... dog? Wolf?”

Minyard bit back a smile. “Or a genetic experiment.”

“Are you laughing at me, Mr. Minyard?” Henry said, voice croaking in every sense.

“Why? Were you joking?” Minyard raised an eyebrow.

Henry frowned. “My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously.”

“And, I assume, did wonders for tourism.” Neil added. “If all this was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?”

Henry sat forward, staring at Minyard with a determined expression. “I’m not sure you can help me, Mr. Minyard, since you find it all so funny.” He seemed to have had enough, because Henry stood up and headed towards the door. 

Neil wondered what would of happened if he simply left then and there. The case was worthy for them both, interesting enough to peak at their minds and make them think a little to why there was a "Devil" attacking Henry and his father. To why after twenty years did that same beast come back to haunt him. Henry seemed terrified, Neil asked himself if he was telling the truth or if it were truly what his therapist called PTSD.

Minyard didn’t seem phased by Henry giving up on him, in all honesty Neil would have as well if he were in Henry's situation. Yet he wasn't, didn't know a thing about the man expect for the information provided to them. Perhaps Minyard would poke into it, Neil at least hoped he would. “Because of what happened last night.”

Henry froze at the door and turned his head to Minyard with a saddened look about him.

“Why, what happened last night?” Neil asked, not expecting this. Turned out Minyard did want to poke.

With a mix between a fearful and confused expression, Henry walked closer to Minyard. “How,” He stammered. “How do you know?” 

"I didn’t know, I noticed.” Minyard stared at him. Neil sighed and slumped down in the couch, preparing himself for a long monologue to which he'd only catch a few seconds of. “You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Knight, and do smoke. I’d be delighted.”

Henry stared at him, then glanced across to Neil who looked at anything but the man. Hesitantly, Henry walked back to the chair and sat down, fishing in his jacket pocket for a cigarette. “How on earth did you notice all that?”

Minyard looked at the two small round white pieces of paper stuck to Henry’s coat. “Punched-out holes where your ticket has been checked.” He pointed out.

“You know-”

Minyard cut Neil off. “I’ve been bored here for ages.”

“You’re just showing off.” Neil huffed.

“Of course. I am a show off after all. That’s what we do.” He said then turned his attention back to Henry, taking the napkin from his hand. Henry never seemed to have let it go and he snapped back into reality the moment Minyard got a hold of the napkin. “The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee; the strength of the stain shows that you didn’t take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich.” Minyard said from simply fiddeling and observing the cloth in hand. 

“How did you know it was disappointing?”

“Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female, handwriting is quite distinctive. She wrote her phone number down on this napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you’re not that into her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers - shaking fingers. I know the signs.” Minyard stared intensely at Henry, challenging him to contradict something. Henry just stayed silent while Minyard sighed. “No chance to smoke one on the train, no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It’s just after nine fifteen. You’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?”

Henry drew in a shaky breath. “No.” Minyard gave a smug look. Neil took a sip from his drink in one shot. “You’re right. You’re completely, exactly right. Fuck. I heard you were quick. Never believed it.”

Minyard looked towards Neil. “It’s what we do.” He emphasized. Neil thought he was a drama queen in every sense of the word. However, that did not stop him from smiling behind his mug from how Minyard worked. “Now,” Minyard leaned in closer to Henry. “Shut up and smoke.”

Henry took out a cigarette and lit it up, glad to take a break from the stress through nicotine.

“Henry, your parents both died before you were seven years old, right?” Neil asked, knowing well how it would feel to be placed in a situation like so at such a young age. “Must have been hard. But do you think that maybe you invented this story to account for it?”

“That’s what Doctor Mortimer says.”

“Who?”

“His therapist.” Minyard said at the same time Henry said, “My therapist.”

Henry looked to Minyard with a scared expression. “Yes. Louise Mortimer. She’s the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons.”

Minyard nodded. “And what happened when you went back to Dewer’s Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you’re consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?”

“It’s a strange place, the Hollow.” Henry evaded the question. “Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid.”

“Yes, if I wanted poetry I’d read Boyd’s emails to his fiance. Much funnier.” Neil snickered. “But what did you see?”

“Footprints. On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart.”

Looking exasperated, Minyard leaned back in his seat.

“Man’s or a woman’s?” Neil asked.

“Neither. They were-”

“Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?” Minyard closed his eyes.

“Yes, but they were-”

“No, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring. Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking.”

“No, but what about the footprints?”

“Oh, they’re probably paw prints. Could be anything, therefore nothing.” Minyard gestured towards the door. “Off to Devon with you, have a tea on me. Your treat because I am certainly not paying.”

Henry’s eyes widened. “Mr. Minyard, they were the footprints of a _gigantic_ _hound_.”

Minyard furrowed his eyebrows. “Say that again.”

“I found the footprints, they were-”

“No, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them.”

Henry thought for a second before he said each of the words again slowly, a little confused. “Mr. Minyard, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.”

Minyard raised his head to look at Neil. “I’ll take the case.”

Neil looked startled. “What?”

He shrugged. “It’s very promising.”

“A minute ago, footprints were boring, now they’re very promising?” Neil tried to find Minyard’s reasoning.

“It’s nothing to do with footprints. As ever, Josten, you weren’t listening. Baskerville. Ever heard of it?”

“Vaguely. It was one of my locations for a while.” Neil tried to stay vague as Henry was still in the room. Minyard nodded.

He _had_ stayed in Baskerville for a while only because he needed to find a place with little to no people and a quiet secured area to spend a few nights. It may have been a government base, yet the government had no interest in the village, acted as if it never existed. Perfect for Neil at the time, his father wouldn't have gone near a village run by the government even if they were useless and had no care for the people living there. Neil didn’t stay for long though, and even then he hardly remembered what it looked like nor the people in it, he just knew they were notorious for their hound legend, pubs and Scottish Shops run all over for tourism and money. Even so, Neil only ever stayed in the barns of some farmer cultivating sheep nearby. He never even stepped foot in the village itself.

“Sounds like a good place to start the case, then.” Minyard told them all, his hands making a steeple on the table, chin resting between them.

“You’ll come down?” Henry beamed.

“Twenty year old disappearance, a monstrous hound? What an offer. You go on ahead, Henry, meet us at your place tonight. We’ll be in Baskerville shortly.” Minyard waved his hands in the air, dismissing Henry. Henry basically jumped out of the room in either glee or shock before he was completly gone. The blond then turned to Josten. “You know about that vacation Boyd was talking about? We need to pay him a visit, suggest something on the lines of Baskerville, huh?”

Neil sighed. Yeah, that was what Boyd and Wilds were talking about when they meant ‘vacation’. A place with hardly anybody around, a small village in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by radioactive landmines and government bases with a sprinkle of countryside smell. 

Boyd and Wilds would love it.

 

 

Neil carried down two large bags and threw them in Minyard’s car trunk. Shutting it closed, he walked over to Minyard himself who was smoking and saying his goodbyes to Betsy before his departure. He mentioned they would be going on a small vacation - Boyd, Wilds, Walker, Reynolds and the two. Reynolds insisted to come, especially with the new bonding she had to make with the fellow detectives, ignoring the fact that she did some troublesome things to get where she is. She said it was fun to have a vacation all together, and she could afford to bring them all there.

With a little convincing on Wilds' part, everyone finally agreed on a place to go and with that, all six of them were on their way to Baskerville. Apart from Reynolds not being too excited about it being anything but a beach, it was still fun to be able to go. Affordable, even if it had been provided to them already.

Boyd would be taking his truck with the others as Neil and Minyard would be taking their own car to get there. It wasn’t a far away place, couple hours on the road. Boyd would be meeting them back at the motel they’d stay at nearby Henry’s house. A quick walk away, better that then a long traverse each day.

They arrived sometime shortly at a field overviewing a small village. The ride mainly consisted of the boys bickering on song choices or Neil sleeping while Andrew drove. It wasn’t too late in the day, and the ride was actually pretty nice.

“There’s Baskerville.” Neil pointed out to the left village and then pointed to the right once they stopped the car to get a quick view on where the fuck they were and where the fuck they should be going. “And that’s Grimpen Village. So,” He turned and looked ahead of them again, checking the map for the name of the heavily wooded area to the left of Baskerville. “So that must be Dewer’s Hollow.”

Minyard pointed to an area in between the complex and the Hollow. “So what’s that?”

Looking thoroughly on the map, it had skull and crossbones. Neil furrowed his eyebrow. “Minefield? Technically Baskerville’s an army base, so I guess they’ve always been keen to keep people out.” The village that was said to be Baskerville, was nothing but a village at all. It was more of a warded out area than Grimpen, and consisted of heavy trucks, military officers and wired fences surrounded the base itself and the minefield.

“Clearly.” Andrew scoffed, driving off to Grimpen Village where they booked three rooms in the small motel. It wouldn’t be much, but it was the best in town as far as tourism went.

They met up with the rest of the gang and got their room keys sorted out, who'd be sleeping with who. Boyd and Wilds would be in one room, Walker and Reynolds in another and finally Neil and Minyard in the last. Neil suggested he could sleep on the couch but Minyard shrugged it off. They put their bags on the bed and decided to head out for a bit. Reynolds was apparently already looking for a pool or hot tub along with everyone else, wanting already to try out her new bikini. Neil took this opportunity to see what else the town could offer them, something that could be useful for the case. Of course, without question, Minyard followed along since he was rather curious himself.

“There’s a pub around the corner.” Minyard told him once they were walking into the busier parts of the village, the main centre to it all. “Let’s take a visit. Talk to people if they’ve seen anything.” 

They walked towards the entrance of the pub, where a young man was talking to a group of tourists. “Three times a day, tell your friends. Tell anyone!” He shouted with passion. The boys looked to one another and then to the sign painted with black paws and the words ‘BEWARE THE HOUND!!’ above it. “Don’t be strangers, and remember! Stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!” He smirked.

The boys ended up ignoring the man and walked into the pub, which had a blackboard outside advertising the menu of the day. Minyard handed Neil a ten. “Get us both lunch. I’m looking around.” He said.

“I can pay for it, you know.”

“I know.” Minyard began to walk away as Neil sighed.

While Minyard prowled around the interior of the pub, Neil went over to the bar, asking for a couple sandwiches. The man smiled and went out back to prepare some for him.

When the man left, Neil glanced onto a pile of receipts which had been punched onto a spike on the bar. He frowned when he saw that one was labelled ‘ _Undershaw Meat Supplies_.’ Quickly he reached out and ripped it from the spike, putting it into his pocket as the man came back with his food.

“There you go.”

“I couldn’t help noticing on the map of the moor - a skull and crossbones.” Neil said, trying to not look suspicious.

“Oh that.” He man laughed. “The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it.”

“Oh, right.” Neil forced a laugh.

“It’s not what you think. It’s the Baskerville testing site. It’s been going for eighty years. I’m not sure anyone really knows what’s there any more.”

Neil looked back to Minyard who was still looking around, seeming to have found something of interest at one of the end tables. “Explosives?” Neil asked.

“Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and – if you’re lucky – you just get blown up, so they say. In case you’re planning on a nice walk.” The man smirked.

Minyard lost interest in the table and wandered off again. Neil looked back to the man. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“Nah, it brought down tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound.” The man chuckled. “Did you see that show, that documentary?”

Neil wondered if everyone in town saw it. “Quite recently, yeah.”

“God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell.” The man chuckled and rested his elbow on the counter.

There was silence that Neil didn’t like. So he asked, “Ever seen it – the hound?”

“Me?” He laughed. “No.” He pointed out the door past Minyard, to the young man who was shouting passionately to the group of tourists. “That’s Fletcher. He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He’s seen it.”

“That’s nice.” Neil repeated.

The man Neil was talking to, turned to another worker who came from the back, holding out beers for others customers who ordered them. “I’m just saying we’ve been rushed off our feet, Billy.”

The other - Billy - replied, “Yeah.” He gave the customers their beer, then turned back to the man. “Lots of monster hunters. Doesn’t take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oof.” He made an action with his hands to emphasize his point. Billy looked back to the other man. “Oh. We’re out of WKD.”

The man sighed. “Again?”

“It is what it is.” Billy shrugged. “And that Fletcher dude, what with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don’t know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?”

Gary put his hands around Billy’s shoulders. “Like a baby.”

“That’s not true.” Billy frowned. Then he looked to Neil. “He’s a snorer."

"Hey! Am not.” Gary’s cheeks flushed.

“Is yours a snorer?” Billy asked.

“Is who a snorer?” Neil looked confused.

“The blond over there.” He pointed to the door where Minyard was leaving to go talk to Fletcher. Neil sighed as this wouldn’t go well for both him nor his friend.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged.

Gary smirked. “I bet you snore.”

“I still don’t know.” Neil replied, looking over to his shoulder wondering how much trouble Minyard would get into by just creating a simple conversation with a witness of the hound as it did with Henry.

Because he knew Minyard would have overheard their conversation. And Neil knew he'd ask him about it.

 

 

Andrew overheard the conversation Josten had with the two men and understood that Fletcher had seen the beast itself. So he decided to pay him a visit to know his point of view on both the story and the hound.

Fletcher had sat down on one of the outside tables of the pub as a break from his tours, Andrew sat on the other side of the table to him the moment the other did. Fletcher seemed surprised by the action and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not true, is it? You haven’t actually seen this hound thing.” Andrew challenged.

Fletcher glanced at him suspiciously. “You from the papers?”

“No, nothing like that. Just curious. Have you seen it?” He pressed.

Looking at his nails, Fletcher muttered, “Maybe.”

“Got any proof?”

A side-eye met Andrew’s. “Why would I tell you if I did?” He went to get up the moment Josten decided to pay them a visit, sitting down next to Andrew.

He passed him a sandwhich. “Bet’s off, Josten.” Andrew sighed dramatically. Josten gave him a puzzled look.

“What?”

Fletcher froze. “Bet?”

“My plan needs darkness.” He told Josten, looking up at the sky. “Reckon we’ve got another half an hour of light.”

“Wait, wait.” Fletcher stopped Andrew there. “What bet?” Josten seemed to be asking the same question by the look on his face.

Andrew grinned. He took the bait. “Oh, I bet Josten here fifty quid that you couldn’t prove you’d seen the hound.”

Josten coughed. “Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could.” He played along.

Smiling, Fletcher pointed to Andrew’s face. “Well, you’re gonna lose your money, mate.”

“Yeah?” A smirk.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind you – couldn’t make much out.”

“I see. No witnesses, I suppose.”

“No, but-”

“Never are.”

“Wait,” Fletcher smiled and took out his phone, showing a photograph and handing it to Andrew. “There.” It consisted of a dark furred animal in the distance, looking rather large and furrocious.

“Is that it? It’s not exactly proof, is it?” Fletcher frowned. “Josten. I win.”

“Wait, wait. That’s not all. People don’t like going up there, you know – to the Hollow. Gives them a bad sort of feeling.” Fletcher insisted.

“Is it haunted? Is that supposed to convince me?”

“No, don’t be stupid. Nothing like that. But I reckon there is something out there – something from Baskerville, something that escaped.”

“A clone, a super-dog?” Andrew mused.

“Maybe. God knows what they’ve been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could spit.” Fletcher snarled.

"Is that the best you’ve got?”

Fletcher hesitated for a long moment, uncertain whether to continue whatever it was he wanted to say, eventually spoke reluctantly, lowering his voice, “I had a partner once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishing but he never showed up – well, not until late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. I’ve seen things today, Fletch, is what he had said to me, things that he never wanted to see again. Terrible things. He’d been sent to some secret Army place – Porton Down, maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else.” He leaned closer. “In the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he’d seen the impossible. Rats as big as dogs. And dogs...” He reached into his bag and pulled out a concrete cast of a dog’s paw print. But the print itself was at least six inches long from the tip of the claws to the back of the pad. Andrew raised both eyebrows. “Better pay up your friend.” Fletcher smirked. Andrew sighed and gave Josten fifty.

 

 

Later, Andrew and Josten took the car to Baskerville, the military base which had founded the town's name. 

As they approached the complex, Andrew observed the many military personnels guarding the place, walking the perimeter and making sure nothing dangerous came up. He drove up to the gates and a military security guard holding a rifle raised a hand. As Andrew stopped the vehicle, the man walked around to the driver’s side.

“Pass?” He said.

Andrew reached into his coat pocket and handed him a pass. Josten raised an eyebrow. “Thank you.” The man said, and walked away with the pass. At the front of the vehicle, another security man encouraged a sniffer dog to check Andrew's car, presumably for explosives.

“You’ve got ID for Baskerville. How?” Josten asked, quietly.

“It’s not specific to this place. It’s my brother’s. Access all areas. I acquired it months ago, just in case.” Andrew shrugged as if it meant nothing. As if he wasn't comiting an illegal act.

The security guard swiped Andrew’s pass through a reader at the gate room and the screen showed up as 'No Threat'.

“Great. We’ll get caught.” Josten sighed.

“No we won’t – well, not just yet.”

“Caught in five minutes. They’ll greet us with food and a party. That’s if we don’t get shot.”

“Perks of being a twin. We get more time before they realise the mistake. Now hurry up.”

The gates began to slide open and the security guard came back over to the car. “Clear.” He handed the pass back to Andrew. “Thank you very much, sir.”

“Thank you.” Andrew tried his best to be formal. Didn’t want to blow it for the both of them, especially when this base was rather important for the case. He put the car in gear and eased the vehicle forward.

“Straight through, sir.” The man told him, pointing to where they needed to go before he was completly out of sight and hearing distance.

“Aaron’s name literally opens doors. What the fuck?” Josten muttered.

“I’ve told you – he practically is the British government. I reckon we’ve got about twenty minutes before they realise something’s wrong.” Andrew estimated. He drove up to the main complex at Baskerville, parked the car as he and Josten got out. Another soldier led them through some barriers and towards an entrance at the main building.

As they walked, Andrew looked around at all the military men patrolling the area, many of them armed. Even the scientists in lab coats were being escorted wherever they needed to go. As they approached the entrance, a military jeep pulled up and a young corporal got out.

“What is it? Are we in trouble?” The man asked frantically. Nevertheless, he stood in between Minyard and the entrance door, holding out a hand to prevent them from getting near the building.

“You were expecting us?” Andrew asked.

“Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Minyard. I am Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?” Lyons asked.

“Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not.” Andrew tutted.

“It’s just we don’t get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn’t happen.”

“Ever heard of a spot check?” Josten showed Lyons an ID. “Neil Josten, Inspector under the British Navy.” Even Josten still had many surprises under his sleeve, colour Andrew impressed. And here Andrew thought he didn't condone illegal acts in military bases, perhaps now knowing they were safe, he was feeding the fire with fuel.

“Sir Major Barrymore won’t be pleased, sir. He’ll want to see you both.” Lyons said, warily. The main reason Andrew could tell him nervous, was how eagerly Lyons tried to add in 'sir', and the way he was averting the boys from getting inside. Either from the fact that there was something in there that nobody should know about, or perhaps because he was generally stressed from a random spot check, not knowing what his general would say.

“I’m afraid we won’t have time for that. We’ll need the full tour right away. Carry on.” Josten lifted his chin.

“That’s an order, Corporal.” Andrew joined in the commands. Lyons tensed momentarily.

“Yes, sirs.” The man spun around and walked towards the entrance. Andrew glanced across to Josten with a proud smile, the latter smiled back.

At the entrance a large metal door was seen, Lyons swiped his pass through a reader, then waited for Andrew to walk over and do the same with his own. Access Granted, it had read and they only had nineteen more minutes.

Lyons then pressed a button and the locks on the door disengaged. Andrew checked his phone for the time.

The door swung open and Lyons led the other two inside, taking off his military hat as he went, and leading them towards the next security door with shaky steps.

When reaching the door, Lyons swiped his pass and stepped aside for Andrew to do likewise. Another Access Granted. The doors slid open and revealed an elevator on the other side. When the doors opened yet again, Lyons led them out into a brightly lit and white tiled laboratory.

As they walked forward, various scientific staff dressed either in white coveralls including full breathing masks, or in lab coats and face masks, walked around the lab with ease. There were large cages to the right of the room, all containing animals of all sorts. Andrew spun on his heel as he passed the cage, looking at the monkey and the chain around its neck.

“How many animals do you keep down here?” He asked the corporal.

“Lots, sir.” Lyons replied.

“Any ever escape?”

“They’d have to know how to use that lift, sir. We’re not breeding them that clever.”

“Unless they have help.” Andrew raised an eyebrow just as a man took off his gas mask and came over to the group. He was rather old and tall. Andrew - Josten included - had to look up to face him.

“Ah, and you are?” The man asked.

“Sorry, Doctor Frankland. I’m just showing these gentlemen around.” Lyons stammered.

Frankland smiled at them. “New faces, huh? Nice. Careful you don’t get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap.” He then walked away and the boys came face again with another lift.

Josten turned to Lyons. “How far down does that lift go?” He probably wondered how long they had until the end, this place was the most secured area Josten had been inside. Andrew wondered how the male was doing internally, gathering he probably did not do well in these types of situations.

“Quite a way, sir.” Lyons answered.

Josten hummed. “And what’s down there?” 

“Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir.” Andrew watched Frankland as he reached the elevator, facing the laboratory and everyone inside it.

Frankland met his gaze from across the laboratory. He was soon startled out of the staring contest when Lyons motioned then elsewhere, saying, “This way, gentlemen.”

“So what exactly is it that you do here?” Josten asked.

“I thought you’d know, sir, this being an inspection.”

Andrew was looking at the various scientists around the room, a couple looking at a rat in a glass cage, another one doing something to the leg of a monkey on a leash which was sitting on a metal table, screaming at the people who came close to it. Nearby, another scientist picked up what looked ominously like a glass container of serum. “Well, I’m not an expert, am I?” Josten huffed out the answer.

Lyons sighed. “Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir.”

“But mostly weaponry?”

“Of one sort or another, yes.”

Lyons swiped his card through the reader of the door at the end of the lab, then stepped aside for Andrew to do the same. “Biological, chemical…?” Neil questioned.

“One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared.” As the door released, Andrew checked his phone for the time, subtly.

They arrived into another lab where a monkey stood up on its back legs with one hand high in the air and shrieked before sitting down again on a high metal table. A female scientist looked at it and then turned to her colleague. “Okay, Michael, let’s try Harlow Three next time.” She said. Lyons approached her once she dismissed the other worker.

“Doctor Stapleton.” Stapleton, Andrew raised an eyebrow. Sounded familiar. 

“Yes?” She then looked to Josten and Andrew. “Who’s this?”

“Priority Ultra, ma’am. Orders from on high. An inspection.”

“Really?”

“We’re to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. What’s your role at Baskerville?” Stapleton looked at Andrew and snorted with disbelieving laughter.

“I’m not free to say. Official secrets.” She said.

Andrew smiled her way. “Oh, you most certainly are free and I suggest you remain that way.” Stapleton eyed Andrew for a moment.

“I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up – genes, mostly, now and again actual fingers.” She smiled.

Andrew’s grin widened. Oh, how endearing she was. “Stapleton. I knew I recongnised your name.”

“I doubt it.”

“People say there’s no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead.” He clicked his tongue, showing her a notebook which had the single words of: _BlueBell_.

Stapleton stared at it in shock. “Have you been talking to my daughter?” She asked.

Andrew put the notebook away. “Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?”

Josten scoffed. “The rabbit?”

She stared at Andrew blankly. “Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive.” He said.

“The rabbit?” Josten said again, quietly this time.

“Clearly an inside job.” Andrew continued.

Stapleton scrunched her nose. “Oh, you reckon?”

“Why?” Andrew straightened his armbands. “Because it glowed in the dark.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Who are you?” As she spoke, Andrew made a mental note of the time and turned to Lyons.

“Well, I think we’ve seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much.” He quickly replied.

Lyons looked surprised. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He turned to the door, Josten at his tail and Lyons trailing after. “It’s this way, isn’t it?”

“Just a minute!” Stapleton called after them but Andrew ignored her.

“Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?” Josten asked him when Lyons was busy swiping his card. Andrew did the same, quickly.

“Twenty-three minutes. Aaron’s getting slow.”

Reaching the second lift doors, after walking through the first laboratory, Andrew swiped his card and Lyons did likewise. The doors opened revealing Doctor Frankland standing inside as if he had been waiting in there the whole time. Andrew raised an eyebrow at the convenience.

“Hello, again.” He cheerfully said.

Narrowing his eyes, Andrew walked into the lift with the others. Very shortly afterwards, one floor up, Frankland got out of the lift with a goodbye. On the second floor, the one meant for the boys, the doors opened abruptly and revealed a bearded man in military uniform waiting for them. Andrew noted to himself that the man did not seem pleased to see them. Lyons took a step back after seeing his superior. “Um, Major-”

“This is outrageous. Why wasn’t I told?” The man said. Andrew only presumed he was Major Barrymore himself.

“Major Barrymore, is it?” Josten stepped between them. “Yes, well, good. Very good. We’re very impressed, aren’t we, Minyard?”

Barrymore looked to Josten like he insulted his wife or something and did not comment on the fact that these two were present in his building. Yet.

The boys continued on, circling around the Major before walking through the narrow corridor. The major followed along behind them, suspicious to who they really were. He tried to reason, however none of the boys were having it. They just wanted out. “The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense-”

“It can’t be helped.” Andrew continued down the hallway. Close to the final doors. So close.

“Inspections?!” Barrymore shouted after them, trying to catch up. Josten looked to Andrew momentarily.

“New policy.” Andrew said flatly. “Can’t remain unmonitored forever. God knows what you’d get up to. Keep walking.”

“Sir!” Lyons shouted to Major from the back end of the hall, not have been following the boys as Barrymore did. The addressed male turned and as he did, Lyons pushed a wall button, setting out an alarm. Red lights smashed in the hallway, flickering on and off in a neon glow just as a faint Lyons pointed to Andrew and Josten. “ID unauthorised, sir!” He called out as Andrew cursed, if only he had a minute. A minute.

“What?” Barrymore asked.

“I’ve just had the call.” Lyons' eyes widened as he continued to glare at the two boys who seemed to be backing away to the exit rather smoothly.

“Is that right?” Barrymore smirked and looked to both Josten and Minyard respectively. “Who are you?”

“Look, there’s obviously been some kind of mistake.” Josten started, frowning. “Computer error, Major. It’ll all have to go in the report.”

Barrymore scowled. “What the hell’s going on?!”

Frankland appeared out of nowhere, startling Josten. Was he not on the second floor? “It’s all right, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen are.” He said calmly, smiling wide to his superior.

“You do?” Barrymore asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. I’m getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Minyard here isn’t someone I expected to show up in this place.” Andrew was about to reply but Frankland let out a hand. “Good to see you again, Aaron.”

Josten tried to mask his surprise but Andrew faked a smile and shook the older man's hand to act upon the accusation. He felt itchy but it was what he had to do. To just play along in order to free both him and Josten from this place.

“I had the honour of meeting Mr. Minyard at the W.H.O. conference in,” He thought for a moment then turned to Andrew. “Brussels, was it?”

“Vienna.” Andrew lied.

“Vienna, that’s it.” He smiled then looked to Barrymore. “This is Mr. Aaron Minyard, Major. There’s obviously been a mistake.” Barrymore turned to Lyons, nodded and the younger male turned off the alarm. The lights stopped flashing and the room went silent.

“Then we will let it be, Doctor Frankland.” Barrymore muttered.

Frankland laughed and walked closer to the boys. “I’ll show them out, Corporal Lyons.” He said.

“Very well, sir.” Lyons nodded. Andrew spun on his heels and headed towards the open entrance. Josten and Frankland followed and Andrew’s friend looked rather anxious on almost being caught. But what was Frankland’s plan? He obviously knew he wasn’t Aaron, and he did not know that Andrew and Josten were in trouble let alone on the first floor.

“This is about Henry Knight, isn’t it?” Frankland smiled when they were a hearing distance apart from the other men and anybody around. They came close to Andrew’s car and Andrew looked to Frankland with a frown. He didn’t need to know. Frankland took this as an sign and gave them both a smug look. “I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn’t realise he was going to contact Andrew Minyard.” Andrew didn’t know it was possible for him to frown even more. “Oh, don’t worry. I know who you really are. I’m never off the news.”

“You know Henry Knight?” Josten asked.

“Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend.” Frankland looked away. He glanced back to the entrance where Barrymore was standing, observing them and Frankland sighed. “Listen, I can’t really talk now.” He took a card from his hand and handed it to Andrew. “Here’s my cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call.”

“I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, Mr. Minyard, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I’d have to kill you.” He laughed as if it were a joke. Andrew huffed for other reasons.

“That would be tremendously ambitious of you.” Frankland’s smile faded and he shrugged in embarrassment. “Tell me about Doctor Stapleton.” Andrew tapped his hands on the front car door when they came close enough to it.

“Never speak ill of a colleague.” Frankland said.

“Yet you’d speak well of one, which you’re clearly omitting to do.” Andrew pointed out.

“I do seem to be, don’t I?” Another shrug.

Andrew raised Frankland’s card. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Any time.”

Andrew went into the car while Josten seemed to have been already inside.

“So?” He asked when Andrew started the car, reversing out of his spot and out of the gates.

“So?” Andrew repeated in question.

“What was all that about the rabbit?” Josten frowned. Andrew didn’t answer and looked towards the road. “Can we not do this, this time?” He rolled his eyes.

“Do what?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“You being all mysterious with your high cheekbones and putting your hand over the seat to appear cool.” Josten huffed. Andrew opened his mouth to speak but decided against it. His cheekbones. Huh. “So answer me. The email from Kirsty – the missing luminous rabbit.”

“Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation.” Andrew finally drove out a good mile away from the base.

“She made her daughter’s rabbit glow in the dark.” It sounded like Josten couldn't believe it.

“Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen. Simple enough these days. So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is, has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?” Andrew wondered.

“To be fair, that is quite a wide field.” Josten pointed out to the field they were driving besides. It was located between Baskerville itself, Dewer's Hollow and Grimpen. A centre to all sights. They’d get to the truth sooner or later.

 

 

They drove off the Henry Knight’s house and honestly Neil hadn’t seen anything as enormous as his place – a four-story stone building that was probably a very important property in the area from the past. It was rustic and seemed rather old, something to which was probably reserved from centuries ago.

Neil and Minyard knocked on the door to greeted by Henry himself who looked rather shocked to see them. It was rather late after all. Minyard assured Neil that he told the others they wouldn’t be back until later that night. So while they partied for their "Introduction to Baskerville", Neil and Minyard investigated Henry's case more. Perhaps it was for the best gathering the boys weren't entirely social and prone to parties.

“Hi.” Henry said to them, finding a way to lean on the door and gave up once he realized it was no use. “Eh. Come in, come in.” The boys followed him inside. They headed down a rather large hallway towards an all-white kitchen.

Henry both made them some tea, for more politeness than anything - to perfect a good host. Minyard and Neil made place on a stool at the counter while Henry was standing on the other side of it, gazing down at his work. “It's a couple of words. It’s what I keep seeing. When I visited my therapist. A flashback per se. Liberty and in. It’s just that.” Henry gazed at the sugar bowl Minyard was pouring into his tea. The moment he put it down, Henry asked, “You finished with that?” Minyard hummed and Henry went to put it in his pantry.

“Mean anything to you?” Neil asked him, his eyes lurking on the paper.

“Liberty in death.” Minyard suggested. “Could be an expression. The only true freedom.” Neil nodded in agreement as Henry returned, sighing. Minyard took a sip from his drink.

“What now, then?” Henry looked to the floor.

“Minyard's got a plan.” Neil told him.

Minyard looked directly into Henry’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Right.” Henry gulped, not knowing what to think of this information, however wondering how to keep the conversation going.

“We take you back out onto the moor.”

“Okay.”

“And see if anything attacks you.”

“What?!” Henry gasped.

“That should bring things to an end. We’d find the wolf and the case would be done.” Minyard shrugged and Neil furrowed his eyebrows in disappointment. He thought his friend was actually onto something rather than a 'put Henry into the line of fire and see what happens' scenario.

“At night?” Henry put both his hands over his face and dragged them down in sorrow. “You want me to go out there at night?”

Another hum from Minyard. The blond probably wondered what was wrong with his idea. “That’s your plan?” Neil snorted, wondering if Minyard _was_ actually being serious. He hoped he wasn't.

“Got any better ideas?” He raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was.

“That’s not a plan.” Neil frowned.

“Listen, if there is a monster out there, Josten, there’s only one thing to do. Find out where it lives.” He looked round to Henry and smiled humorlessly, taking another sip from his mug. Henry looked afraid and Neil plopped his head onto the counter. This couldn't go well.

 

 

As the night began to fall, Neil looked up at the trees which were darkening from the sky, sighing and wondering why they were even trying to do it this late at night. They would have been perfectly fine finding a wolf in daytime where they could actually see past the trees. Instead, they were out this late, a time where Neil could be in their small motel sleeping. Not only did they have a chance of getting lost, they have the chance of dying from some mundane animal crawling into their area, hungry and desperate for any type of food.

With quiet muttering on his part, Henry led them both down towards Dewer’s Hollow where it was a crevice - or a dip - in the ground surrounded by trees, rocks and the dark eeriness of the woods. All three of them had made sure they brought flashlights to light the uneven ground below their feet. It was a start, at least. However, Neil was still wary about the whole situation, he could hear foxes scream in the distance, maybe some wolves, coyotes. Hell, he didn't know.

Deeper into the woods, Neil got startled by a rustling of the leaves and turned around to look, shining his torch into the bush just as an owl shrieked overhead, otherwise there was nothing in sight but nature, plants and trees. Perhaps bugs and cobwebs from tree to tree, knowing he was sure he walked into one at some point.

He clicked his tongue and tried to stay focused on the other two lights which were probably just a few feet ahead of him. It was only then that Neil realised that the other two had disappeared out of sight, the lights fading away in the distance before there was nothing. Nothing. Always nothing.

He shone his flashlight in the direction they went but there was no sign of them. Neil looked back to the hillside, wondering where they went before his eyes averted to a light. A flashing light. It wasn’t Minyard nor Henry, that was for sure. It just kept on flashing in his direction. Neil squinted. It all looked rather similar.

Too similar that Neil recognised the symbols right away. Which was when he noted that the flashing of the lights, the flickering of one longer than the others and the multiple repetitions or patterns from the adjacent light source, it was all Morse code.

He took out a miniature notebook and wrote down letters that he remembered from past trips where the only communication he and his mother had were vague codes when wanting to talk subtly without others overhearing.

Neil made out an U, M, Q, R and an A in the distance before the lights stopped. He furrowed his eyebrows at the message. “Umqra?” He mumbled in confusion.

He looked back into the hillside again but no more light came from it. Shutting the notebook closed, he headed off in the direction of the other two, trying to see if he could catch up to them or figure out where they even went.

That was when Neil overheard an eerie metallic thrumming sound. He stopped and aimed his flashlight in the direction of the sound, then went to move onwards just as the thrum sounded again. The sound continued to repeat. Neil walked slowly towards it, then quietly sighed when he saw a rusty metal container which was lying in the undergrowth. Water was dripping from the tree above it which was causing the thrums. Just as Neil looked away, something massive flashed past behind him. He turned his head in the direction it went but but it was already gone, nothing else in sight. Neil thought nothing of it until he heared an anguished howl in the distance, close by to himself but more closer to Dewer's Hollow than anything.

Towards Minyard and Henry.

Neil’s eyes widened as he began to hurry to find the others.

And in hurry, Neil meant he ran.

 

 

Henry’s flashlight shone on the edge of the minefield with its fencing and warning signs surrounding it. Andrew tried to look further through it, but it was too dark to see anything. They made their way along the edge of the fencing, and Andrew wondered where Josten went. He couldn’t have been too far behind.

“Met a friend of yours.” Andrew broke the silence between himself and Henry.

“What?” Henry asked, startled.

“Doctor Frankland.”

“Oh, right. Bob, yeah.” He looked freaked out by the whole forest it seemed, Andrew was midly interested in it. Only wanted to seek reaction out of Henry, wondering what he had seen in these woods to have freaked him out for twenty odd years.

“He seems pretty concerned about you.” Andrew touched the fence so see if it were electrocuted but was disappointed to feel nothing. They continued along the fence until it curved into the forest.

“He’s a worrier, bless him. He’s been very kind to me since I came back.” Henry admitted.

“He knew your father.” Andrew pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“But he works at Baskerville. Didn’t your dad have a problem with that?”

“Well, friends are friends, aren’t they? I mean, look at you and Neil.” Andrew raised an eyebrow to that.

“What about us?” He asked.

“Well, I mean, he’s a pretty straightforward guy. And you,” Henry glanced at Andrew’s grim expression, deciding not to continue on that sentence. Probably for the better. “They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad.” Henry sighed. Andrew didn't realise Frankland had such a close relationship with Henry's father that he was basically associated to being his son's uncle. Finally, Henry stopped and turned to his left, nodding in the direction. “There’s Dewer’s Hollow.”  
  
Andrew was heading down into the Hollow, being careful to keep his balance on the steep slippery ground. He reached the bottom and shone his torch around, finding giant paw prints all around the area. Interesting. Bigger than any canine in the woods. A howl came soon after and both Henry and Andrew looked up at the trees. Andrew shone his light upwards and both eyebrows raised to what was before them, one in the horror and one in wonder. It was almost bigger than any wolf, that was true. Henry seemed to follow his gaze and panted heavily. The thing growled and then ran off. Henry collapsed to his knees. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” He repeated more than enough times. “Did you see it? Tell me you saw it.” He brought hands up to his face.

Andrew stared around, shaking his head, then shoved Henry out of his way, hurrying back up the hillside. He almost ran into Josten when they got out from the Hollow. He looked rather squirmy.

“Did you hear that?” Josten panted.

Andrew ignored him and stormed straight past.

“We saw it. We saw it.” Henry was hysterical.

“No. I didn’t see anything.” Andrew snapped.

Henry stopped laughing. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t. See. Anything.” He repeated.

Josten lowered his flashlight a bit, looking between his friend and Henry who was hyperventilating and wondered what really did happen. 

Andrew didn't know if he could explain what he saw.

 

 

Sitting in an armchair by a roaring open fire, Minyard’s face was still full of anger and disbelief. He didn’t say anything since the trip to the Hollow and Neil sighed, wondering what really happened to have made both boys become distant from everyone around them. Whatever they saw must have gotten to both of them, but he hoped Minyard wouldn’t believe it. He had to try something before Minyard felt panic rise up in him. “Henry’s is in a pretty bad shape. He’s manic, totally convinced there’s some mutant dog roaming the moors.” He huffed, trying to get some humour out of the situation.

Minyard glanced at Neil for a moment, then continued to gaze in the direction of the fire, lost in thought. Another sigh escaped Neil. “And there isn’t, though, is there? Because if people knew how to make a mutant dog, we’d know. They’d be for sale. I mean, that’s how it works.” Neil tried again. Minyard closed his eyes and breathed in and simply listened to his friend talk. “In the moor I saw someone signalling. Morse – I guess it’s Morse. Doesn’t seem to make much sense. U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean anything to you?”

Minyard was silent. Neil mentally groaned. He doesn’t know how he could help. “So, okay, what have we got? We know there’s footprints, because Henry found them. So did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something. Maybe we should just look for whoever’s got a big dog.” He suggested.

“Henry’s right.” Minyard frowned, leaning back in his chair.

“What?”

“I saw it too.”

“What?”

“I saw it too, Josten.” Minyard looked towards the ceiling.

“You saw what?” Neil asked, concerned. Minyard tilted his head to look at Neil, face twisting with a self-loathing look as he forced himself to admit the truth.

“A hound, out there in the Hollow.” He huffed out. “A gigantic hound.”

Neil looked away momentarily. He had to do something or Minyard would lose it like Henry did. He was barely able to get back home, hyperventilating and freaking out over whatever they saw. It was as if the hound had injected both of the boys with a sort of fear serum which could not be controlled on both parties. Something even Minyard could not break. Neil only hoped it was fake, that all this was just their imagination. Yet Minyard seemed dedicated on seeing that hound, and perhaps maybe they just did. Or perhaps it was something else, something to which Neil needed to find out.

However, they had no lead. Nothing apart from what the legends were and letters that made no sense. So Neil bit his lip and tried as best as he could to just... help. “Look, Minyard, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can’t just-” Minyard frowned. “Let’s just stick to what we know, okay? Stick to the facts.”

“Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true.”

“What does that mean?”

Minyard reached down and picked up a drink from a nearby table. His hands were rather shaky, it was slight but not subtle enough that Neil didn't notice. He was even more concerned. “Andrew?” No response. “Just take it easy, okay? You’ve been pretty stressed lately, you know you have. I think you’ve just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up.”

“Worked up?” Minyard laughed sarcastically. “Me? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Andrew.” Neil warned.

“Nothing fucking wrong. Do you understand?” Minyard said louder than expected. “You want me to prove it?” He pulled in a deep breath and Neil winced. “We’re looking for a dog, a great big dog, that’s your brilliant theory. Finde den Hund. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?” Minyard looked over his shoulder and pointed towards a man and elder woman sitting opposite each other at a table in the corner of the restaurant. “How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer’s yes.”

“Yes?”

“She’s got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we’re looking for.” Minyard looked briefly across at the man and his sweater with reindeer and holly leaves knitted into it before turning away again. “Look at the sweater he’s wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he’s uncomfortable in it. Maybe it’s because of the material, more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it’s a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother’s good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He’s treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he’s trying to economise on his own food.”

“Well, maybe he’s just not hungry.”

“No, small plate. Starter. He’s practically licked it clean. She’s nearly finished her pavlova. If she’d treated him, he’d have had as much as he wanted. He’s hungry all right and not well off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. And how do I know she’s his mother? Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother’s more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They’re all quite old now, which suggests he’s been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he’s turned to his widowed mother for help. Widowed? Yes, obviously. She’s got a man’s wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband’s and too big for her finger. She’s well dressed but her jewellery’s cheap. She could afford better, but she’s kept it – it’s sentimental. Now, the dog.” He looked at the thick wiry hairs on the lower part of the woman’s black trouser. “Tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it’s a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. How the hell do I know that? Because she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that’s not cheating, that’s listening. I use my senses, Josten, unlike some people. You see, I am fine, in fact I’ve never been better, so just... Leave.” Minyard concluded.

Neil stared at him. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “And why would you listen to me? I’m just your friend.”

“I don’t have friends.” Minyard snarled and Neil knew this was best for him to leave, to give Minyard as much space as he could when he was riled this way.

“Wonder why.” Neil muttered back. And to that, he left.

 

 

“Is everyone in here gay?!” Reynolds shouted when she came back from the pool the next morning, holding her hands up in exasperation. Neil and Minyard got a good night's sleep after they were done with their little expedition. They came back to their room and sooner, everyone else did as well. They didn’t talk much, and at first, Neil was concerned for Minyard as they both had to sleep in the same bed, but then they gathered up as much distance as they could to make it work.

Neil was still holding a somewhat grudge for why Minyard was acting the way he was. Yet no conversation about it in itself, as Minyard left relatively early in the morning to do whatever the fuck he did. Not entirely present for him to talk about their situation.

So Reynolds joined Neil when he was alone in the room, bathing suite on and getting ready for the day. “I tried to flirt with four hot boys at the pool and they all turned me down, saying they had boyfriends. Then we try a pub and what do you know, bar keepers are married.”

“Having a bad day?” He asked.

“It’s not bad. I just wanted some vacation hookups, you know?”

“Try the girls.”

“What fucking girls? I found none.” Reynolds sighed and fell face forward on the bed. She took out her phone to check her messages and stood up straight back up again in wonder. “Actually Neil, we’re in need.” She told him.

“Huh?” Neil furrowed his eyebrows.

“We have plans, since everyone else seems to be busy, and Minyard just texted me. You and almost everyone knows damn well what that means. He never texts, could only be important.” She put a shirt over her bathing suit and fixed her hair and makeup. “Come on, don’t keep a girl waiting.” She smirked.

 

 

Reynolds led Neil to the pub where he just looked confused. “An interview and a date?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Seems to me like this is trying to benefit the both of us but is that really the case? It was Andrew’s idea, so don’t blame me. But from seeing the photos, oh man am I excited for this.” Reynolds smiled.

“And why am I involved?” Neil sighed.

“So I called Louise Mortimer, said I was a friend of Henry’s. She ring a bell? Minyard said it was relevant, and that I'd like it. Though I have no fucking clue who this Henry fellow is. I'm not against being all buddy with his therapist, mind you.” She smirked. “To make sure _you_ were dragged along, I said I had a friend over at the house and couldn't leave you alone. That you’d be my wingman.”

“Isn’t a date supposed to be a one on one?” Neil frowned.

“Maybe next time.” She walked over to a table and greeted Louise Mortimer who smiled back at her.

“Allison, pleasure to meet you. And this must be Neil.” She smiled. They all settled around the table. Mortimer and Reynolds already seemed to get on fairly well. Neil just played with the fork and knives on the table of the restaurant they were in. What a place, it seemed fancy and everything and Neil had never actually been to one before.

They all talked for a while, until the main course came along. Neil more quiet than most, Reynolds talking like it was the only thing she knew and Mortimer nodding politely and giving her opinion on the situation. Topic mainly consisted of Reynolds explaining her shopping stories she encountered in her life, to which pleased her to an extent.

Reynolds gave Neil a smug look and picked up a half-empty wine bottle from the table. “Any wine, Neil?”

“I don’t drink.” He shrugged.

“And to you?” She smirked up at Mortimer.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Reynolds?” She asked in retaliation. A bit more flirtatious than before. She seemed already drunk as it was, perhaps this was Reynolds' plan. Or perhaps Reynolds was actually doing it for the sake of a date.

“Oh wow. The thought never occurred.” Reynolds filled the glass up anyways.

“Because a while ago I thought you were chatting me up.” Mortimer said.

“Where did I go wrong?”

“When you started asking me about my patients.” Mortimer’s smile faded to that.

“Well, you see, I am one of Henry’s oldest friends.” Allison lied. She seemed good with that, and this whole entire ordeal. Even so, that was the most questionable thing here at the moment.

“Yeah, and he’s one of my patients, so I can’t talk about him.” Mortimer gave a small smile to that. Reynold hummed. “Although he has told me about all his oldest friends. Which one are you?”

“A new one?” Reynolds asked, hopefully. Mortimer scoffed.

“What about his father? He wasn’t one of your patients. Wasn’t he some sort of conspiracy lunatic?” Neil asked. “Sorry. I mean, theorist.”

“You’re only nuts if you’re wrong.” Mortimer told him.

“And was he wrong?” Reynolds raised an eyebrow.

“I should think so.”

“But he got fixated on Baskerville, didn’t he? With what they were doing in there, couldn’t Henry have gone the same way, started imagining a hound?” Mortimer looked pointedly to Neil.

“Why do you think I’m going to talk about this?”

“Because I think you’re worried about him.” Reynolds interjected, then she straightened up. “And because, between us three, I have another friend who might be having the same problem.”

The girls locked eyes for a long moment and finally Mortimer sighed. She had apparently decided to tell them more than she really ought to have, but before she could even begin, a hand clapped down onto Neil’s shoulder from behind him. Neil tensed and shrunk himself in his seat, frightfully turning around to see who was touching him. When he finally turned his head, he didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that it was only Bob Frankland.

Why was he here?

“Neil Josten.” He greeted.

“Hi.” Neil said quietly.

Then he looked to the girls. “Hello, ladies. You all on dates with this pretty man here? What a catch, two in a couple days.” He laughed.

“No, us two are on a date and he’s the wingman - a friend.” Reynolds tilted her head in Frankland’s direction and she seemed rather frightening, her eyes cold and distant than before. Despite the glare, Frankland still didn't let go of Neil’s shoulders and Neil didn’t entirely feel well.

“A shame.” He smiled. “How’s the investigation going?” He asked Neil.

Neil didn’t respond.

“What investigation?” Mortimer asked. Well fuck, this couldn't end well. 

“Didn’t you know? Don’t you listen around? Andrew Minyard!” Frankland laughed.

“It’s-” Neil tried.

“Andrew who?”

“No, it’s-”

“Private detective.” Frankland clapped Neil’s shoulder again. Neil’s eye widened at the sudden attention Mortimer was giving him, just as much as Frankland was gripping his skin. “This is his sidekick.”

“Sidekick?” Neil questioned silently.

“Well, live-in sidekick.” Frankland’s eyes squinted when he smiled.

“Live-in...” Mortimer repeated. “You knew about this?” She asked Reynolds. The addressed woman looked offended, or well, pretended to be.

“This is Doctor Mortimer, Henry’s therapist and her date - and my friend - Allison.” Neil introduced them, keeping strain of himself and the fingers lingering on his shoulders.

“Oh, hello.” Frankland shook both their hands. “I'm Bob Frankland.” He turned back to Neil. As he spoke, Mortimer was already twisting on her chair to take her coat off the back, Reynolds did the same but glared at Frankland’s hands still on Neil’s shoulders.

“I can’t believe you would do this.” Mortimer told Reynolds.

“Hun, I didn’t even know about it.” Lies. “How could you, Neil?”

“I-”

“Listen, tell Andrew I’ve been keeping an eye on Stapleton. Any time he wants a little chat, right?” Frankland said, unaware of everything going on. Neil bit his lip.

“Why don’t you buy him a drink, Neil? I think he likes you.” Allison joked.

Then she glared at Frankland.

"But keep your hands to yourself, Bob.”

After a few moments, the sensation of hands were finally off Neil’s shoulders. He sighed in relief. Allison seemed glad of the fact and started to walk away. “Don't want to make Andrew jealous, now.” She called back as she walked away from the restaurant, chasing Mortimer out. Guess it was serious in the end.

Neil planted his face on the table as Frankland continued to talk about his lab stories that Neil had no interest in.

 

 

Andrew knocked on Henry’s door and as soon as it opened, Andrew burst in without a moment to waste. “Hello, Henry.” He grinned. “How are you feeling?” He looked in his eyes, dead serious.

Henry seemed rather tired and wheezy and honestly closer to death than Andrew was.

“I didn’t sleep very well.” He admitted.

“That’s a shame.” Andrew walked into the kitchen and sat on the counter.

“Listen. Last night,” Henry frowned. “Why did you say you hadn’t seen anything? I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute, but-”

“Hound.” Andrew repeated, leaning into Henry’s view.

“What?”

“Why do you call it a hound? Why a hound?”

“Why – what do you mean?”

“It’s odd, isn’t it? Strange choice of words – archaic. It’s why I took the case. _Mr. Minyard, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound_ , was what you said word for word. Why say hound, though?” He looked through Henry’s drawers and grinned when he found was he was looking for. Sugar.

“I don’t know! I-”

“Actually, I’d better skip this meeting.” Henry blinked in confusion and Andrew went out of the house, leaving him behind with a bag of sugar in hand.

 

 

He reached the village and stopped when he saw Josten sitting on the steps of a memorial, looking through his notes a distance away. Andrew grinned at the sight, opening the gates of the cemetery and and walked along the path towards Josten. He looked up when hearing him approach and frowned at Andrew's state of being. “Did you get anywhere with that Morse code?” Andrew asked, tucking his hands in his coat pocket.

“No.” Josten looked back to his notes.

“U, M, Q, R, A, wasn’t it? Umqra.”

“Nothing.” Josten said.

“Umqre.” Andrew tried.

“Look, forget it. I thought I was on to something. I wasn’t. I found out the lights were only people on an escapade in the woods with their cars. You don’t want to know what they were doing.” He got up and started to walk out of the cemetery. Andrew followed him behind.

“Sure?”

‘Yeah.”

“How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?”

“No.”

“Too bad. Did you get any information from Allison?”

Josten smiled briefly and glanced over his shoulder but still kept on walking. Andrew clicked his tongue. “She’s now on the escapade to find Mortimer. But they have nothing to do with me. So no.” 

“The next thing you know, you’ll be on the escapade too. Looks like it so far.”

“That you making a joke?”

“Thought it might break the ice a bit.” Andrew said truthfully.

“Funny doesn’t suit you. I’d stick to ice.”

“Neil.”

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“What happened last night? Something happened to me, something I’ve not really experienced before.” Andrew said.

Josten stopped walking and turned to Andrew. He pointed his finger to his chest and scowled. “Yes, perhaps fear. Because you saw the great hound. Andrew Minyard got scared. Is that news to you? To have feelings.”

“No, it was more than that, Josten. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I’ve always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, to hide everything. Until last night.” He said.

“You can’t actually believe that you saw some kind of monster.” Josten laughed, disbelieving him.

“No, I can’t believe that. But I did see it, so the question is _how_?”

“Yes. Yeah, right, good. So you’ve got something to go on, then? Good luck with that.” Josten walked away.

“Listen, what I said before, Josten. I meant it.” Josten stopped. “I don’t have _friends_. I’ve just got one.”

Josten was a distance away and nodded briefly to Andrew, before continuing on forward again. “Right.” He said, though it didn't sound reassuring. Then it hit Andrew. Realization. He smirked and looked to Josten who was about to round the corner.

“Oh, Josten you are just too interesting.”

Josten scoffed. “You don’t have to overdo it.” He said.

Andrew caught up to him. “Some people who aren’t geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others.” He said.

“What have I done that’s so bloody stimulating?” Josten looked confused.

Andrew stopped just outside the pub doors, in front of Josten. Showing what Josten had just written in his notebook. The words: _HOUND_. “But what if it’s not a word, Josten? What if it is individual letters?”

“You think it’s an acronym?”

“Absolutely no idea but-” He turned towards the pub doors and trailed off. Boyd was talking with the married barkeepers.

Boyd looked up at Andrew as he walked over to the taller male. He took off his sunglasses, smiling their way. “Andrew, Neil. Hey! Where have you two been? This is supposed to be a vacation for all of us yet you both are never around.”

“Actually, could you help us with something?” Josten intervened.

“Why?” Andrew looked to Josten.

“Well, I’ve not been idle, Andrew.” Josten frowned. Boyd added onto the frowning, perhaps seeing the tension between them both. Josten ignored it. “I think I might have found something.”

He showed Minyard the sales invoice from Undershaw Meat Supplies. It seemed like the same ones on the counter of the pub. Andrew raised an eyebrow, did he get this when talking with Gary and Billy? Smart. “Here. Didn’t know if it was relevant, starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian pub.” He said.

“Excellent.” Andrew grinned.

 

 

Later, in the small room next to the bar, Boyd was sitting at a table looking through previous invoices from Undershaw – while Gary the manager and Billy the chef sat at the other side of the table looking at him anxiously.

Nearby, Andrew was pouring himself a cup of coffee from a filter machine and Josten sat down close enough to hear any conversation that may happen between Boyd and the two husbands.  

“These records go back nearly two months.” Boyd said. “Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?”

“It’s me. It was me.” Billy said, turning to his partner. “I’m sorry, Gary, I couldn’t help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal’s wedding and one thing just led to another-”

Boyd laughed. “Nice try.” Andrew had to admit he was rather scary in serious situation.

“Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the moor – it was heaven. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster.” Gary explained.

“Where do you keep it?”

“There’s an old mineshaft. It’s not too far. It was all right there.”

Andrew came closer to the three. “Was?”

Gary sighed. “We couldn’t control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and,” He frowned. “You know.”

“It’s dead?” Josten asked.

“Put down.” Gary corrected.

“Yeah. No choice. So it’s over.” Billy added.

“It was just a joke, you know?” Gary looked to Boyd.

“Yeah, hilarious.” Boyd rolled his eyes. “You’ve nearly driven a man out of his mind.” He walked out of the room. Josten followed him out, knowing well Boyd wasn’t too happy about the men.

Andrew sat his cup down and looked to both husbands who were looking rather guilty about the whole situation and Henry Knight.

Once done grabbing something from the cupboard, Andrew caught up with Boyd and Josten outside, to which Boyd smiled at the two. “So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?” Boyd asked.

“No reason not to.” Josten said.

“Well, hopefully there’s no harm done. Not quite sure what I’d charge him with anyway. I’ll have a word with the local force and Wymack.” Boyd sighed. “Right, that’s that, then. Catch you later. Hey, you know what? I’m enjoying this! It’s nice to get London out of your lungs. You both better join us tonight.”

He waved them goodby, then Boyd was gone.

Josten looked to Andrew. “So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?”

“Looks like it.” He agreed.

“But that wasn’t what you saw. That wasn’t just an ordinary dog.”

“No.” Andrew looked away. “It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, Josten. Its whole body was glowing. However, I’ve got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it.”

“How? Can’t pull off the ID trick again.”

“Might not have to.”

Andrew took out his phone and texted his brother a quick text.

 

 

They underwent the same process as last time. The car checking, the ID, the dogs, the gates, everything that they were first introduced to when arriving at Baskerville. “I need to see Major Barrymore as soon as we get inside.” Andrew told Josten as he drove to the parking spot, getting out of the car. “Which means you’ll have to start the search for the hound. In the labs, Stapleton’s first. Here’s my phone, I’m using Boyd’s. The less he would know about that, the better.” Josten nodded and took Andrew’s phone. “Could be dangerous.” He warned and Josten smiled, mischievously.

Andrew hid his under a frown.

 

 

“Oh, you know I’d love to. I’d love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why not?” Barrymore scowled at Andrew, clasping his hands together and turned his chair to face Andrew more clearly. They were in his office, legally this time.

“It’s a simple enough request, Major.” Andrew explained.

“I’ve never heard of anything so bizarre.”

“You’re to give me twenty-four hours. It’s what I’ve negotiated.”

“Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order but I don’t have to like it.” He said sternly, swinging around to his computer on the desk, letting Andrew leave the office with a smug look. “I don’t know what you expect to find here anyway.”

Andrew turned his head towards Barrymore. “Perhaps the truth.”

“About what? Oh, I see. The big coat should have told me.” Andrew frowned. “You’re one of the conspiracy lot, aren’t you? Well, then, go ahead, seek them out. The monsters, the death rays, the aliens.”

“Have you got any of those?” Andrew asked, not letting the Major get to him. Barrymore rolled his eyes. “Oh, just wondering.”

“A couple actually. Crash landed here in the sixties.” He said with a sarcastic tone. “We call them Abbott and Costello. Good luck, Mr. Minyard.”

 

 

The lift doors opened into the first lab and Neil came out of the elevator to see a large room he and Minyard visited a day or two ago. The last of the scientists left the room for the night and one of them turned off the main overhead lights as he went, which left the room dimly lit. Neil looked around a little anxiously when he realised how quiet it was. He walked towards a door at the far end of the lab, a security pass in his pocket. He took it out and swiped it through the reader, then pulled the door open and went inside.

As he walked through the decontamination zone to the door at the far end, Neil tapped a finger on the glass window in the door. When nobody replied he pushed the door open and went into another room. There was a glass-fronted cage inside the sealed section but there didn't appear to be anything inside. In front of him was a desk with equipment, folders, a phone and various other items on it, and above the desk were small plastic tubes coming out of the wall and dials which indicated that the tubes dispense various gases.

Neil opened the door to a small cupboard set into the desk but found nothing of interest, so continued looking around elsewhere. He came out of the room and went back through the decontamination zone and into the lab. As Neil turned to his right to close the door behind him, the device lit up and bright bulbs shone straight into his eyes. He blinked and turned away, grimacing in pain.

Opening his eyes a little, he squinted and tried to see into the room. All the other lights in the room appeared to have come on as well and there was a wall of whiteness all around him. Just as he was about to fight his way through the room, a loud insistent alarm began to blare into the room. Neil groaned and covered his ears, completely overwhelmed by the bright light, lack of vision and the noise. Grimacing, he started to make his way across the lab towards the lift.

Finally reaching the other end of the lab, he pulled out the ID card and swiped it through the reader. It whined and told him that the ID was denied. Neil stared in disbelief and swiped the card again but it continued to hum in error and gave him the same message. Holding one hand to an ear while the alarm continued to blare, he tried once more. “Come on.” He mumbled. There was no point in trying to unlock it himself, considering it was heavily secured and could only be breached with the ID card.

Neil felt sore and his mind was hazy, drumming with the beat of the loud sound and pumping with the soon-to-be headache forming. It was now harder to see with his vision, everything becoming double and black spots forming around him. He glared at everything in exasperation – and at that moment all the lights went out and the alarm droned into silence. He sighed in relief and blinked a few times to adjust himself, however it did no good. The room then beamed on the emergency lighting, which was dark red and barely illuminating the area, helping somewhat for Neil to see around.

“What the-?” He scrambled in his pocket for his flashlight and switched it on, although it was fairly dim from the amount of use it had gone through and flicked it around the area to see who could have switched off the lights in the premises. “Hello?”

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment in a failed attempt to clear the spots in his vision. However, as Neil opened his eyes again, blinking rapidly, he saw a vague shadow seeming to have flickered across the room some distance away. Neil turned quickly, looking around the room, the spots in his vision still frustrating his ability to see anything clearly.

Putting his head into his hand, he rubbed his eyes for a few seconds, body dizzy from the over-stimulation, then raised his head again, realizing how ominously quiet it was in the lab.

But that didn’t last long apparently, because something rattled to his right. He walked forward cautiously, looking a little anxiously at the row of large cages which Neil now realised were all covered with sheeting which obscured their contents. The rattle sounded again and Neil turned his head in all directions, yet it was too dark to see.

He walked slowly to the first of the cages, turning once to check behind him, then grabbed hold of the sheeting and pulled it back to show that the first cage was empty. Pulling the sheet back down again, he walked to the next cage as something clinked near the lift doors. He swung around to look and shined his torch in that direction but could see nothing.

He turned again and grabbed the sheet over the second cage, tossing that back. A monkey inside hurled itself at him, screaming as it grabbed at the bars. Neil dropped the sheet and stumbled back several paces, breathing heavily. Gathering himself back up again, he continued to walk to the final cage and looked at it. Then slowly, his gaze was pulled down to the bottom of the bars where the sheeting had been pushed back a little. The door of the cage was slightly ajar and the bottom of it had been bent back by something which must have be incredibly strong. Neil furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if the animal who was in the cage did that or perhaps something else.

However, the self-broken door meant that something _was_ in that cage, yet wasn't no more.

As Neil stared at the bent bars in disbelief, a low savage growl sounded behind him. He spun around, his eyes went wide as he shone his flashlight around but could see nothing. Frustrating with the situation, knowing well enough Stapleton was not in area nor was anybody else, Neil walked closer to the exit door, trying out the ID again but it was still denied. “Fuck.” Neil murmured.

He stared in anguish at the door for several minutes before pulling his mobile out of his pocket, while taking to shining his light around the room. He hit speed dial and held the phone to his ear as it began to ring out. He waited for Minyard to pick up but Neil eventually gave up and switched off the phone. He swore loudly, kicking the wall in anger and put the phone back into his pocket.

He looked around the room once over. Right. He sighed. Time to find another way out.

Trying to shine his torch in all directions at once and making his way cautiously around all the workstations and tables, he hurried as quickly as he could towards the door on the other end. As he went, the distinctive sound of claws on floor tiles skittered across the room.

“Oh shit.” He tried to get his card out again. As he reached towards the card reader, something snarled in around him. Neil turned to stare, breathing heavily and slowly turned behind him.

As the growl finally fell silent, Neil made a break for it and raced across the room, running towards the cages and pulling open the door of one of the empty ones before scrambling inside - while almost tripping over - slamming the door and bolting it shut. Around the cage had a sheet and Neil sighed in relief as it hid him enough to look like nothing was inside, unless, of course, the sheet was suddenly pulled off. He just hoped that wouln't happen with whatever was inside this lab. Whatever would get him, something that perhaps was hypothetically not real.

Neil was stuck, he was hiding once more.

He didn't want to be like this again, didn't want the fear to rise up inside.

He sucked in a breath. Not here. Not now.

Another growl was heard and Neil wondered what the fuck was happening and where the fuck was that growling coming from.

Suddenly, Minyard’s phone started to ring and Neil scrambled for it. “Well fuck me sideways, it’s here. It’s in here with me. You were right.” He whispered.

“Where are you?” Minyard said on the other line.

“Get me out, Andrew.” Neil gritted his teeth. “You have got to get me out. The big lab. The first lab that we saw.” Neil knew Minyard could tell that his voice was frantic, that he was on the verge of a panic attack. 

The creature - was it a creature? - growled again. Neil’s foot bounced up and down in his sitting position and he wondered just how the fuck was all this possible. There couldn’t be a creature but then what was _that_? What was all the clawing sounds, growling and movement that knocked down vials? He seemed to have gone silent for a while because Minyard asked, “Neil?”

“Now, Minyard.” Neil told him, a silent plea to which he heard scrambling on the other end.

“I’ll find you. Keep talking.”

“I can’t. You of all people should know what hiding means?” Neil closed his eyes.

“Just keep talking. What are you seeing?”

Neil peered through the small gap in the sheeting but the room was so dimly lit that he couldn’t see anything but the dark parts of the lab. “Neil?” Minyard asked again.

“I’m here.” He confirmed, looking around for any sign of the hound.

“What can you see?” Minyard repeated insistently.

Neil crawled closer to the sheet, squinting his eyes. “I don’t know.” He said softly. “I don’t know, but I can hear it...” The growling never stopped. “Do you?”

“Stay calm, Josten. Can you see it?”

“No. I can’t-” He trailed off, and his eyes went wide as he peered through the small crack of the sheets. A creature. The hound. A terrifying thing staring right at him. Neil closed the sheet quickly, straightening up and clutching onto the phone. “Well, fuck.”

He stared ahead of himself and laughed. Out of all things, if this was how Neil Josten died, he’d be quite disappointed. “Yeah, it’s here.”

The sheet slowly opened and Neil scrambled to the other side of the cage, a dark expression on his face as he waited for whatever it was. Perhaps the hound, perhaps his father, perhaps death itself.

But all the lights came on and Minyard titled his head while gazing down at Neil. “Are you going back to being a rabbit?”  He asked, Neil though the saw a little glimpse of worry but everything was too hard to tell. “You already look like one, and are currently in a cage. Some rabbit you are. People will talk.” Neil glanced around, making sure the thing wouldn't pop up again and then furrowed his eyes at Minyard.

“What...?” He grabbed his head in his hands and breathed in shakily once again. All this was too familiar. Cages. Hiding. Fear. Neil started remembering his past and he just wished for it to stop.

He didn’t know when Minyard moved but he was squatting down in front of Neil, his eyes looking over the younger male. “It’s me, Josten. Only me. Only Andrew.” He said, but it was rather vague. Why was it vague? Why did Minyard sound so distant when he was right there? Then Minyard grabbed the back of his neck and brought their faces close together - inches apart. “Breath, Neil. You’re safe, the creature is gone. It was always gone. Listen to me.” Minyard’s voice comforted Neil and Neil clicked his tongue. He couldn’t show weakness. He was Neil Josten. He wasn’t with his father, he wasn’t running, he wasn’t afraid, he was not Nathaniel Wesninski anymore. He looked into Minyard’s hazel eyes and the other didn’t look away, just held a blank face while repeating words to Neil. Words. Some words. Neil tried to figure out what those words were. He gripped onto them in his mind, tried to stay focus. “Neil. Breath.” He finally understood. Neil did so.

“I’m okay.” Neil spoke. Minyard stared at him, not letting go of his neck for a minute or two, making sure Neil was actually okay. He then finally stood up and held out a hand for him. Without hesitation, Neil took it.

“I’m guessing all that was not for the creature.” Minyard said, more of statement than an actual question.

Neil slowly looked up at the male, and Minyard could know already through his gaze. They stayed quiet for a moment, the comforting silence which Neil was silently fixing himself back together with. He then sighed out a breath, to even out the rest. “There was the hound, Andrew. It was here. I swear.” Even if there was now no hound in sight. “Did...” He paused. “Did you see it?”

“It’s all okay now.” He let go of Neil’s hand.

Neil laughed. “It’s not okay, because I saw it. I was wrong. What the fuck was it?”

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions.” Minyard shrugged.

“What?”

“What did you see?”

“I told you. I saw the hound.”

“Huge, red eyes?”

“Yes.”

“Glowing?”

“Yes.”

Minyard huffed. “No.”

“What?”

“I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged. What you saw was not real, it was a hallucination.”

Neil stumbled back a bit. “What?”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.”

“Then come on. It’s time to lay this ghost.”

 

 

The two boys arrived when Doctor Stapleton was examining a white rabbit on a metal table. She looked up when she saw Andrew and Josten come through the door. “Oh. Back again? What’s on your mind this time?” She snickered.

“Murder, Doctor Stapleton. Refined, cold-blooded murder.” Andrew told her to which she seemed rather wary about. He reached back and turned off the light switch by the door. The limited lighting coming from the window at the end of the room was just enough to show that the rabbit she was examining, suddenly glowed a fluorescent green. Andrew turned the lights back on again and gave Stapleton a smug look. “Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?”

She sighed. “Okay. What do you want?”

“Can I borrow your microscope?”

In a larger lab, Andrew settled in, taking off his coat and threw it on a bench. He walked over to the microscope and gathered all his things over the counter, the sugar, the base, anything needed. He turned away from the scope and crushed some crystalline into smaller pieces with a little hammer, knowing well what he had to do. All he needed now was time.

So time passed by rather quickly after that. He mixed and matched everything and gazed at the end wall, drawn in thought. He got himself to write down some chemical formulas on the paper, he just needed the right one. What was right from wrong, wrong from right, anything that he tried to find out the truth to his theory.

Josten sat on a stool near him, with his head propped on one hand, eyes closed and tired. However Minyard knew he was awake, considering Stapleton was keeping him up by dragging on conversations.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked him. Andrew quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything to get himself off track. “You look very pale.”

“I’m always pretty pale.” Josten shrugged.

There was silence for a little while. “It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you’re interested.”

“What?” He asked, confused.

“In the rabbits.” Josten hummed, barely able to keep his eyes open. His later event perhaps let out a lot of energy.

“Aequorea Victoria, if you really want to know.” She said confidently.

“Why?” He asked.

“Why not? We don’t ask questions like that here. It isn’t done here.” Andrew wanted her to be quiet in all honesty. “There was a mix-up, anyway. My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go.”

“Your compassion is overwhelming.” Josten rolled his eyes.

“I know. I hate myself sometimes.” She mocked him. Andrew looked back to his slides, trying to ignore that woman who just kept on talking.

“So, come on then. You can trust me.” Josten faked a grin. “What else have you got hidden away up here?”

Stapleton sighed. “Listen, if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Of course they are.”

Andrew stared intently at his latest slide, lips twitching. Josten raised both eyebrows in fake amusement. “And cloning?”

“Yes, of course. Dolly the Sheep, remember?”

“Human cloning.”

“Why not?”

“What about animals?” He said cautiously. “Not sheep. Big animals.”

“Size isn’t a problem, not at all. The only limits are ethics and the law, and both those things can be very flexible. But not here – not at Baskerville.”

Andrew stood up, snatching the latest slide out from under the microscope and hurled it against the wall, breathing rapidly. His nostrils flared at the broken slide and he then scowled. “It’s not there.” Josten seemed startled by the outburst. “Nothing there. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“What were you expecting to find?” Stapleton smiled.

“A drug, of course. There has to be a drug – a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of some kind. There’s no trace of anything in the sugar.” Andrew told her.

“Sugar?” Josten asked.

“The sugar, yes. It’s a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it. A genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn’t believe the evidence with my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight – he saw it too but you didn’t, Josten. You didn’t see it. You say you did but you didn’t, your mind is tricking you into thinking you did due to the over-stimulation and corrupted mind from so. Now, to find something that broke the pattern. We have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing. You don’t take sugar in your coffee.”

"I see.” Josten hummed.

“I took it from Henry’s kitchen – his sugar.” He glanced down at the microscope. “But it’s perfectly fine so what drug could make us hallucinate so much, we'd see something so fearful that even our minds couldn't convince us was fake?”

“But maybe it’s not a drug.” Josten suggested.

“No, it has to be a drug.” He threw himself on the wheeling chair and span around slightly, thinking. “But how did it get into our systems. How?” Slowly, he began to raise his head, still keeping his eyes closed. Something with the word hound. He opened his eyes. “Something buried deep.” He took a sharp breath and pointed to Stapleton. “Get the fuck out.”

“What?”

“Get out. I need to go to my mind palace and if I stay too quiet for long, you'll start talking about shit we don't care for.”

Josten swung his legs back and forth on his chair, and looked between both of them, smiling.

“Your what?” She looked offended.

Andrew glared at her, Josten knew this was his cue to guide her out so he plopped off the chair and motioned her to follow him with his hand. “He’s not gonna be doing much talking for a while. We may as well go.” He hummed.

“But his what?” She asked again.

“Oh, his mind palace.” Josten told her. “It’s a memory technique – a sort of mental map. You plot a map with a location – it doesn’t have to be a real place – and then you deposit memories there. Theoretically, you can never forget anything, all you have to do is find your way back to it.”

“So this imaginary location can be anything – a house or a street.”

“Yeah.”

“But he said palace.”

Josten smiled towards Andrew, Andrew frowned. “Yeah, well, he would, wouldn’t he?” Then Andrew was only left with his mind.

Andrew gazed ahead of himself. What did he recall in connection with the word ‘Liberty’? Henry said _Liberty,_ but what was Liberty? Other from being free, something it could mean. Something with the word.... ‘hound’ crept into Andrew's mind. Liberty In Hound. ‘In’ could mean many things as well. Inside. An Inn - a hotel. India. Ingolstadt. Indium. Indium’s atomic number was 49. Would 49 have a connection? No.

He started calling up images of large dogs, running through various breeds.

Hound Dog? No, not that either.

He started calling up places with the word In.

And he started calling up words that could go with the word Liberty.

Irritated, he clicked his tongue and concentrated.

Liberty. In. Hound.

His eyes snapped open. He recalled on a conversation with Josten - an acronym. Oh, Josten was a smart man for coming up with the suggestion of acronym's.

Andrew knew what it was.

_Liberty, Indiana, H.O.U.N.D._

 

 

Stapleton led Neil and Minyard along a corridor and used her card to swipe them into the area leading to the local offices. As they got into the large precinct of a room, Minyard pointed back to the door they just came through. Neil understood what he meant and nodded, turning back to keep an eye on the door while Stapleton went over to sit down at a computer. A distance away, but perfectly clear enough to hear what the two were saying.

“Project H.O.U.N.D. Must have read about it and stored it away. An experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana.” Minyard said, standing behind Stapleton while she typed her username and password into the local computer. A request to search an item appeared, she looked to Minyard. He told her to type in the words Hound. She did so, but a message came up saying: _No Access. CIA Classified_ ,and requested an authorization code.

“That’s as far as my access goes, I’m afraid.” Stapleton shrugged.

“Well, there must be an override and password.” Neil told them.

“I imagine so, but that’d be Major Barrymore’s.”

“Barrymore sat here when he thought it up.” He walked over to Barrymore's office, switching on the lights, then seated himself down at the desk. He spun in the chair, looking around the office as he did. He pointed to Stapleton as she followed him in. “Describe Barry to me.”

“You’ve seen him.” She said.

“But describe him.”

She laughed. “He’s a strict disciplinarian, a throw-back, the sort of man they’d have sent into Suez.”

“Good. Old-fashioned, traditionalist.” Minyard thought. “Not the sort that would use his children’s names as a password.” He gestured towards the children’s drawing that was pinned on the board above the desk “He loves his job, proud of it and this is work-related, so what’s at eye level?” He looked around the room again and Neil raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his smile. “Books.” Minyard pointed to the left. “Jane’s Defence Weekly – bound copies. Hannibal, Wellington, Rommel, Churchill’s History of the English-Speaking Peoples – all four volumes.” He listed, then stood up to look at a bronze bust on a shelf. “Churchill – well, he’s fond of Churchill. Copy of The Downing Street Years, one, two, three, four, _five_ separate biographies of Thatcher.” He mumbled. Minyard looked down to a framed photograph on the desk of a man in uniform standing with his teenage son. Perhaps Barrymore and his child. “Mid 1980s at a guess. Father and son, Barrymore senior. Medals are Distinguished Service Order.”

Neil’s eyes shot up. “That date. I’d say Falklands veteran.” He said from the door.

“Good. So Thatcher’s looking a more likely bet than Churchill.” Minyard headed back towards the computer outside, switching the lights back off behind him so there was no evidence he had been in there.

“So that’s the password?” Stapleton asked.

Minyard huffed. “No. With a man like Major Barrymore, only first name terms would do.”

Leaning down to the keyboard, Minyard started to type Margaret Thatcher’s first name into the code box, but stopped mid-way and erased it. He narrowed his eyes and retyped it as Maggie. Looking into the screen and gritting his teeth ever so slightly, he hit Enter. The computer beeped happily and announced that the code was accepted.

Neil came over from the door to look at the screen. Information began to stream across the screen as everything related to Project H.O.U.N.D. became available to their viewing eye. Neil’s concentration became intense while he took it all in, focusing on certain phrases. Extreme suggestibility, fear and stimulus, conditioned terror, aerosol dispersal. Weird words that didn’t look too great for the subjects in use of that drug.

A photograph came up of the project team posing happily together and Neil saw the names on the side; Elaine Dyson, Mary Uslowski, Rick Nader, Jack O’Mara and Leonard Hansen. Minyard grinned then wrote down their names on a piece of paper, handing it to Neil. Though Minyard made it clear of one thing when he wrote them down. It said;

Leonard **H** ansen

Jack **O** ‘Mara

Mary **U** slowski

Rick **N** ader

Elaine **D** yson

Stapleton gasped when she saw the note.

_H.O.U.N.D._

She then stared in horror at the screen as more information from the project appeared and words and phrases were highlighted. Paranoia, severe frontal lobe damage, blood-brain, gross cranial trauma, dangerous acceleration. And out of all of those. The one that stood out the most was: _Multiple Homicides_.

“Jesus.” Stapleton said.

“Project _HOUND_. A new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus. But they shut it down and hid it away in 1986.” Minyard explained.

“Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on.” Stapleton read.

Neil hummed, reading through the information given to them. “And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane – made them almost uncontrollably aggressive.” A pause. “So someone’s been doing it again – carrying on the experiments?”

“Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years.” Minyard nodded.

“Who?” Stapleton said.

Neil looked at the screen, and then to Stapleton. “Those names mean anything to you?”

“No, not a thing.”

“Five principal scientists, twenty years ago.” Minyard pulled up a photograph of the entire team and began zooming in on individuals within it. “Maybe our friend’s somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986-” He stopped, sighed, then rolled his eyes. Neil looked closely to the face Minyard was currently zoomed in on, and groaned. Of course. Of fucking course. “Maybe somebody who says cell phone because of time spent in America. You remember, Neil? He gave us his number in case we needed him. It was his plan all along, distract and act.”

Stapleton gasped. “Oh my God. Bob Frankland. But Bob doesn’t even work on-” She tried to find her words. “I mean, he’s a virologist. This was chemical warfare.”

“It’s where he started, though.” Minyard pointed out. “And he’s never lost the certainty, the obsession that the drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number.” He took out Frankland’s card. “Let’s have a chat with him, shall we?”

He walked away from the computer, Neil looked at it one last time and everything started to click together. On the bottom screen read the three words both boys were struggling to understand. _H.O.U.N.D_ , Liberty, Indiana.

Just then, Minyard’s phone began to ring. “Who’s this?” He answered. He seemed startled, looked to Neil and put it on speaker.

A woman was crying on the other end. “You’ve got to find Henry.” She said.

“Louise Mortimer.” Neil whispered, knowing well Andrew never met her but knew of her. He recognised her voice and she seemed rather distressed. “What’s wrong?” He asked out loud.

“Henry was-” She cried. “Was remembering. Then he tried…. He’s got a gun. He went for the gun and tried to-”

“What?” Neil was confused. She broke down in tears again.

“He’s gone. You’ve got to stop him. I don’t know what he might do.”

“Where are you?” Minyard asked.

“His house. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

“We’ll get someone to you, okay? I’ll send down the girls.” Minyard said, then pointed to Neil. “We’ll need Boyd, he’s rather strong. There’s only one place Henry would go to. Back to where it all started.”

 

  
Boyd, Neil and Minyard ran down to Dewer’s hollow. They all stopped when they saw Henry stumbling slowly forward, a gun in hand and wandering around vaguely for a moment before coming to a halt and dropping to his knees. Minyard froze and the others almost collided into his back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dad.” Henry said, bringing the pistol to his open his mouth, aiming the muzzle inside.

“Henry, no!” Boyd's eyes widened at the sight.

Neil scrambled down the slope, as Boyd and Minyard shone their torches down towards it. Henry stood up from the shout and stumbled backwards, waving the pistol vaguely in Neil’s direction.

“Get back. Get – get away from me!” He cried out.

“Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax.” Neil held up two hands in comfort as he got to the bottom of the slope.

“I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!” Henry screamed.

Neil didn’t know how to handle this. Sure, Boyd had a gun but that did nothing when someone’s life was at risk by their own demand. “Just put the gun down. It’s okay.”

Henry’s voice was hoarse with anguish and Neil tensed up. “No, no, I know what I am!” He repeated. “I am a murderer. I am crazy. I must be stopped before I do anything else. I tried to kill Louise. I tried... I tried-”

“Yes, I’m sure you did, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully.” Minyard interjected and came down next to Neil.

“What?” Henry’s hands trembled with the gun pointing from one boy to the other, not knowing who to shoot.

“Someone needed to keep you quiet. Needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember.” Minyard explained and stepped closer to Henry. “Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy.”

Henry’s hands began to drop momentarily, considering what Minyard had to say but he then snapped out of it and raised the gun again. Though his face filled with confusion on how to answer. “I thought it had got my dad – the hound. I thought-” He brought both of his hands to his head and screamed, losing control of himself. “Jesus, I don’t – I don’t know any more!” He cried, aiming the gun to his head again, ready to shoot.

Neil lurched forward. “Henry! Henry, for fuck’s sake. No.”

“Henry, remember.” Minyard quickly stepped in. “Liberty. In. Two words. Two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago.” Henry stopped screaming. “You’d started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry?”

Henry blinked.

“Not a monster.”

Henry looked up at Minyard.

“A man.”

 

 

Twenty years ago. Twenty years ago, Henry saw his father be mauled to death by a gigantic hound. For twenty years he had nightmares, saw strange movements in his home, the forest and whenever he dared to close his eyes. It would always be there. Never left, never gone, never away. He had always remembered his father scrambling on the ground trying to get away from the hound, but now for the first time Henry could see what was pulling him backwards across the earth. It the wasn't so a creature. Was not the hound at all.

No.

It was a man.

Andrew Minyard’s words ran in his head.

 _A man_.

He recalled back to twenty years ago and saw the figure of a man wearing a dark leather gas mask. The glass of the two large eye pieces were tinted a dark red, glowing. Just like the red eyes of a hound. All his memories. All were fake. Something planted into his mind to tell him otherwise. Not knowing what was real to what was _imagined_.

Henry had watched from partway up the slope, cringing, had been terrified as the attacker pummeled at his father, half strangling him and then punching wildly at his face. He had wanted to intervene but it was all too unreal. But was it real? Was it imagined? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. 

But he started to remember.

His father had managed to pull himself from under his assailant and had started to crawl away but the other man, growling fiercely, tugged him backwards and Henry’s father lost his balance and fell. His head had struck across a rock, leaving him to stir no more. He collapsed. Unmoving. Henry had silently screamed, backing away from the scenario. Leaving an imprinted, corrupted memory in place.

Breathing heavily through the gas mask, the other man had poked at Henry's father, realising that he wasn't going to move again and satisfactorily got to his feet. The last thing Henry could remember was the man’s shirt. The cause of his hallucinations. The cause of all this stress, the mental state, the visions, the distant echo he always feared would haunt him. The shirt of a growling wolf painted with the words Liberty, In.

He snapped back to reality and his gaze returned to Minyard. He was still talking, still going through everything slowly. All for Henry. “-you couldn’t cope. You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said.” He said.

Henry heard Josten step forward, holding out his hand encouragingly towards Henry for the gun.

The other man Henry didn’t recognise, trotted down the slope to join them just as Henry looked between all three. “Okay, it’s okay.” Josten spoke.

Josten carefully took the pistol from Henry’s fingers.

And to Henry's surprise, he let him.

He was just so overwhelmed with everything going on. To what was real, to what was fake, to what really was happening. “But we saw it. The hound, last night. We… We did, we saw-”

“Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus, that’s how it works.” Henry stared at him in confusion. Josten returned his look sympathetically. “But there never was any monster.”

An anguished howl rang out in the woods above them. Everyone’s head snapped up and all three detectives aimed their flashlights upwards to the top of the Hollow where a low dark shape could be seen slowly stalking along the rim, snarling loudly at them all.

Josten looked to it. “Andrew.” He said.

Minyard stared up in disbelief as Henry turned to him, horrified. “No.” It couldn’t. Minyard lied. It was back. It was always there. It wasn't a man. “No, no, no, no!” He screamed again and cried and cried. The tears didn’t stop. This was all too much. He backed away as Josten tried to hold out a calming hand towards him while keeping his own torch shining up towards the creature above them. “Henry.”

The creature continued to slink along the rim of the Hollow as Henry began to scream in terror. He crumpled to his knees again, “No!” He shouted.

The hound turned towards the Hollow and looked down at everyone, snarling viciously. Its eyes glowed in the torchlight as Henry continued to wail.

“Shit.” The taller detective said, looking wide-eyed at the creature.

Josten shone the torch on the hound’s face and swore the same. It was broken, mutated, giant, bloody, and... Minyard took a quick look around, to see everyone’s faces before turning back to stare up at the hound.

“Right. He is not drugged, Andrew, so what’s that? What is it?” Josten asked in the distance.

Minyard screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to handle the overload in his mind. He stared upwards again. “All right. It’s still here.” He said, calmly, but it sounded like he still didn’t believe it. No. It was there. It was fucking there, Henry could see that with his eyes. “But it’s just a dog. Henry!” He shouted, Henry looked to him. “It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog.”

Henry didn’t think so and when it raised its head and let out a long terrifying howl.

The taller detective stumbled backwards. “Oh my God. Fuck. Minyard, that's one fucking dog.” The hound turned a short way down the slope, red flashing eyes glaring at all of them. The creature was massive, huge, terrifying. Henry shivered and tried to back away, yet he was frozen in place. It was getting harder to breath, many small rapid breaths.

Josten stared at it as the hound stopped in his tracks. It opened its mouth and revealed a mouthful of long pointed teeth that you would never see on any mundane dog. Its snarled was completely terrifying. Henry had fallen silent, gazing up at it as if he knew that it was going to kill him shortly. It would. This would be the end of them all.

He just wished it had happened on that day. That very day his dad died.

Perhaps then he'd be at bliss.

 

 

Neil tried to believe that it wasn’t real, the mystery of the creature, the hound of Baskerville. But when it was right in front of him, that was a different story. All his life, he didn’t believe this would caused him to fear life itself, so why was he so scared? Why did nothing concern him - yet, this did?

Perhaps there was something more to it. Perhaps he wasn't scared of the hound but something else.

Something close by enough to give him shivers from just thinking about it.

Something that was all too real for Neil.

Neil looked over his shoulder and saw a tall human figure through the mist. The new arrival was wearing a breathing mask, seeming rather tall and broad shouldered.

He didn't move. Neil's mind was just... He wasn't...  

Neil turned and walked slowly towards him. Something was laughing in his mind, the familiar hum was sinking into his brain. His vision was hazy, his body had struggle to balance and everything became so _close,_ yet so _distant._

Neil's hands reached for the man's mask and ripped it upwards to fully reveal the bigger man’s face. No. No, it couldn’t be. Staring right at him with a large smile, was nobody he thought he’d encounter today. Was nothing worth it? All this? For all Neil had done to survive. Neil stared at him in horror, his face was slightly distorted but it was clear who it was. It was indeed a killer. That’s for sure.

And it was his father.

Standing befor him was Nathan Wesninski.

Neil sucked in a terrifying breath and stumbled back. Nathan didn’t say anything. Simply grinned. Neil wanted to run, but why was he fucking stuck? He couldn't move, could't do anything but pant, breathe and scream. “No.” He whispered, struggling to get his mind back together. Nobody was around him, everybody disappeared. 

He needed Minyard, he needed help.

His father would get him, he was here. He'd come for him, if only Neil knew it would have been so soon. if he tried to make up for everything he'd done, for the things he'd do and for what he didn't tell Minyard.

Behind him the hound growled ominously again, yet Neil ignored it. Then his father’s face changed. His expression became more intense and murderous, but his head began to distort and flail about. Morphing between his father’s face and someone else’s so quickly that it was impossible to keep up with the changes. Neil brought his hands to his head, reaching for hair that was fading through his fingers and his mind running wild. The lights around him were fuzzy and unclear. Everything around him was floating, was moving even if Neil wasn't.

He heard Minyard shout behind him. Neil kept his wide-eyes, watching the insanity going on in front of him while Nathan’s face keeps reasserting itself. “It’s not you. You’re not here.” Neil stammered, repeating over and over and over and over again.

Neil might have lost his mind in the past 4 hours. Because with everything going on around him, everything he'd done, he had enough.

He grabbed at the figure, at his father, and headbutted him in the face.

He had headbutted Nathan Wesninski.

The figure crumpled slightly, raising his hand to his face as he straightened up and groaned.

No, it wasn’t his father. It wasn't at all.

The face started to flicker through many faces at once, then simply stayed to one, to someone Neil knew well enough. Someone who caused of all this and directed all of their clues and information about the hound elsewhere, to who drugged them off onto something that made them fear life itself. Who ruined his interview with Louise Mortimer, who made Henry a distressed man and killed another - a friend on top of that, Henry's own father. Staring angrily at Neil, was Bob Frankland.

This was all too much for Neil. He clung onto his jacket, his breathing panicked and frantic. He turned his head to one side and looked at the mist surrounding them. Neil looked around but his head was floating, he swayed as he tried to balance himself. Keep his mind concentrated. Frankland had clamped his hands over his mouth and nose, and suddenly it all begun to make sense to Neil. “The fog.” He said quietly then looked to Minyard who appeared through the distance, mist circulating him.

Minyard was aiming the pistol at the hound. “What?”

“It’s the fog.” He repeated then looked to Minyard. “The drug, it’s in the fog. Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records. Project H.O.U.N.D – it’s the fog. A chemical minefield.” Neil explained, and brought his hands to his head to stop himself from becoming so dizzy he'd tip over.

Boyd instantly threw his arm across his face, trying to stop himself from breathing too much of the mist. The hound stalked closer to the group, snarling.

“For fuck’s sake, kill it! Kill it!” Frankland snarled from the ground.

The hound’s movements became more jittery as if it was winding itself up to attack, flickering from reality to nothing. Minyard aimed his pistol and fired, making the hound flinch momentarily. His aim was truer the second time, and his bullets stuck the hound accurately, throwing it backwards. It squealed in pain and crashed to the ground, unmoving. Boyd and Minyard watched it anxiously for any signs of movement, and Minyard ran over to Henry, pushing him towards the hound.

“Look at it, Henry.”

“No, no, no.” He cried, curling up on himself.

“Come on, look at it. Fucking look at it.” He pushed the young man forward until they both were clearly seeing it lying on the ground. In Boyd’s torchlight it was clearly nothing more than a huge dog. Not a creature, not a hound. Just a wild ferocious dog.

Henry stared at it for a moment and then turned back to where Frankland was still holding his injured face while Boyd had his owm over his mouth. Henry tried to draw in a breath and came to terms with what he had just experienced. When his gaze snapped back to the older male, he looked manically, eyes slanting in anger.

“It’s just.” He said, back to the dog then back to Frankland. “You bastard...”  He hurled himself at the older man, screaming with rage. “You fucking bastard!”

Bundling him to the ground, Henry screamed into Frankland's face as he tried to fight him, the older male steadying himself to fight Henry back. Minyard knew Frankland would win against them, with age and body frame, with experience and controlled emotions.

Neil and Boyd ran over, trying to pull Henry off. “Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense. Why didn’t you just kill me?” Henry cried, as Boyd finally managed to pull him off, holding him so he wouldn’t thrash out.

“Because dead men get listened to.” Minyard spoke up, Frankland's cold eyes turning towards him. “He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield. Pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here.” Minyard spun around, gesturing around the Hollow. “Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once. Josten, you’re good.” He grinned to Neil. Neil didn’t know if it were the panic or what, but his heart pumped loud.

Minyard huffed. “Oh, this case, Henry. It’s been brilliant.”

“Minyard.” Boyd said.

“What?”

“Timing.”

“Not good?”

“No, no, it’s – it’s okay.” Henry said, clamly in Boyd’s arms. “It’s fine, because this means,” He turned his head towards Frankland who had yet to say anything about this. “This means that my dad was right.” Frankland got up onto his feet as Henry still tried to move towards him. His face was filled with dread. “He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was right, and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a savage snarl from behind the group. Everybody spun towards the dog. The dog whined in pain but got up off the ground. With everyone turned towards the dog, Frankland took the opportunity from the distraction to run off in the opposite direction. Neil noticed this of course, and ran off as well, chasing the older man. Minyard followed suit, after dropping his gun. “Frankland!” Neil called out.

He didn’t stop though, kept on running through the woods with Neil and Minyard in pursuit, Boyd and Henry a little behind the other two.

Reaching the barbed wire fence surrounding the minefield, Frankland didn't hesitate and jumped over. His feet tangle in the wire and he fell to the ground on the other side. Neil tried to call out for him. Frankland jumped up and ran on a few yards but then stopped abruptly when his foot thumps down onto a plate, which made a distinctive clink.

Neil stopped sharply, making Minyard inches away from crashing into him from behind. They both looked to Frankland, who wasn’t moving.

He wasn't moving because he activated a mine.

Frankland stared down at his foot, shining his torch onto the mine underneath and realising that unless he remained completely still and didn’t lift any pressure off it, the mine would blow. As Neil tried to hurry towards the barbed wire. Frankland raised his head at him.

And lifted his foot.

The only thing Neil saw was the bright red light in the distance, and the echoing vibration of an explosions in the distance of the field. His hair was blown away a little, the wind tingling his neck. He looked at the mushroom cloud forming in the air, his eyes glowing in the reflection of what had been a perfect night sky.

Neil wondered if Frankland knew his fate from the beginning, or was just destined to die where he had stood.

Either way, it solved the murder, solved the fact that the boys didn't see a dog, that they were drugged.

Neil reminded himself that perhaps he had some things to do, to say, after realising everything wasn't as true as he thought it was. After everything didn't end where he thought it was, when he remembered that his father was dead. He wouldn't come back. That Neil would survive for yet another day.

 

 

  
Neil was sitting at one of the outdoor tables of the pub, all the Foxes surrounding him as they ate their last meal in Baskerville. Billy brought out a plate containing sandwiches and mugs of coffee, telling them how sorry they were for the commotion - Neil explaining that it wasn't so their fault as it was someone else's.

Boyd was talking excitedly to Wilds, explaining the case he went through and what he thought he saw to what really was not there. Wilds tried to hide her worry and smiled politely at everything her fiancee said. At the end of the table, Minyard was simply staring off into space, while Reynolds was joining in on Boyd’s conversation, asking exaggerating questions and commenting vulgarly on the topic. Asking if Henry was hot, if Frankland death was amazing after what he did, any question that screamed _Reynolds_.

“Thanks, Billy.” Walker nodded, when Billy walked away after giving them the food and drinks, smiling at them all.

“So they didn’t have it put down, then – the dog.” Neil looked to Minyard.

“Obviously. Suppose they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it.”

“I see.” Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “Listen, what happened to me in the lab? I mean, I hadn’t been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said.”

“You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. We walked through a disinfectant entrance. You saw those pipes – pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve. They probably carried the gas. We should probably tell Aaron about it, but I don’t really want to.”

“You thought it was in the sugar.” Neil accused him. Minyard stared at him while trying to maintain a neutral expression. “You were convinced it was in the sugar.”

“We should probably get packing soon. Wymack extended this to a week, it’s been a week. Last day, probably should get home soon.”

Neil gaped at Minyard. “It was you.” He frowned. “You locked me in that bloody lab.”

Minyard shrugged. “It was an experiment.”

“An experiment?” Neil asked furiously.

“I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee that morning. You swore me for it but it wasn't unusual. I then arranged everything with Major Barrymore.” Minyard said. Neil sighed in exasperation. “It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions – well, literally.” He said. Neil would never win against this man. “Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one. It led me to answer multiple questions about the case, and even about yourself.”

Neil rolled his eyes and went back to his food. He didn't want to know what that meant. “But it wasn’t in the sugar.”

“I wasn’t to know you’d already been exposed to the gas, the laboratory had many tricks.”

“So you got it wrong.” Neil mused.

“No.” Minyard frowned.

Neil hummed and grinned. “It wasn’t in the sugar, you got it wrong. I found out it was the gas, so I was right.”

“I was bit wrong. It won’t happen again.” He clicked his tongue.

Neil was content with that. Still mad about the experiment, however. But it was the shit Neil signed up for. When he first came with Minyard, he realised it would be tough, that he would be aggravated with the blond on more than one occasion. He did hate him, didn’t like him but he was Andrew Minyard. And Neil would always be there for him.

And maybe Neil would tell him what he wanted to say another day.


	6. Case 6: The Reichenbach Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 3 Season 2 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings; Regarding dialogue, there are mentions of Neil and Andrew's past. No graphical scenes, simply talk and threats. Case itself deals with shootings, sorta murders, and the devil himself once more (he is a warning on his own). Chapter brings out a long-term-suffering-son. Save my child, please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I actually honestly love Seth despite his vulgar mouth. He deserved better, he just needs to realise the actions he does aren't the brightest and best for his situation. It doesn't work like that, honey!!

“Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner’s masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Minyard.” A Director of an art gallery finished his speech as he stood near a painting. The patrons applauded in his suite, looking over at the two uncomfortable males, standing at the small press conference on their latest case. The Director walked up to one of the men, and gave a small gift-wrapped box. “A small token of our gratitude.”

Andrew Minyard took the box and looked at it, without as much as peaking at the inside contents. “Diamond cufflinks. What is this? A sex toy?"

“He means thank you.” Neil Josten sighed, looking at the Director and audience who were anticipating a more vivid reaction.

“Do I?” Andrew looked to his partner. Josten only gave him an impatient look, warning him not to cause a scene. Which was indeed rich coming from him.

“Thank you.” Andrew gritted through teeth then started to walk away.

A couple days later, outside a banker’s house, a rescued man from a previous case was standing with his arms around his wife and younger son. The press filmed and photographed the two men who solved the case, in which case was both Josten and Andrew, standing uncomfortably nearby. The husband of the rescue-case smiled wide. “Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal, and we have one person to thank for my deliverance – Andrew Minyard!”

The public applauded once more, the kid of the family grinned and offered a small gift-wrapped box to Andrew. Andrew took it and rattled it briefly. He looked to Josten with an unnerved look. “Tie pin. I don’t wear ties.”

Josten glared at him exasperatingly and they both walked away from the press.

And even so, on next day, all detectives were called upon Scotland Yard where Wymack was addressing a press conference. Minyard and Josten stood nearby once again. Boyd, Wilds, Reynolds and Gordon were in the back of the room. “Peter Ricoletti was number one on Interpol’s Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got him, and there’s one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads with all his customary diplomacy and tact.” He gestured towards Andrew who stared at him with annoyance.

The press applauded, Wymack walked over to Andrew and gave him a gift-wrapped package, smiling cheerfully. “We all chipped in.”

Andrew teared open the wrapping paper, Reynolds and Gordon grinned expectantly. He pulled out a hat, the classic Sherlock hat. Andrew frowned, seeming to be very pleased with the joke.

“Just get it over with.” Josten sighed next to him, and slapped the hat unhappily on the blond's head. The press were indeed happy to take photos of the two before they left the scene willingly.

 

 

Josten sat on the sofa while Andrew was stomping across the room and threw the Daily Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table. “Boffin. They called me Boffin Andrew Minyard.”

“Everybody gets one.” Josten told him.

“One what?”

“Tabloid nickname, for the press. I’ll probably get one soon as well.”

“Article five, column six, first sentence. Daily Star. Look it up.” He pointed to the newspaper, and Josten picked it up from the coffee table quickly. He tried to find the article while flipping through pages, while Andrew looked at the hat he received. “Why do people like hat photographs? Why are people telling me I'm the new Sherlock Holmes?”

Josten scoffed as he read article five. “Bachelor Neil Josten?”

“What sort of hat is it anyway?”

“Bachelor? What the fuck are they implying?” Josten furrowed his eyebrows.

Andrew held up the hat and twisted it back and forth rapidly. “Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?”

“It’s a deerstalker.” Josten glanced up briefly. “Frequently seen in the company of _bachelor Neil Josten_.” He read and huffed.

“You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do – throw it?”

“... _confirmed_ bachelor Neil Josten. It got even worse. What am I? A prize?”

“Some sort of death Frisbee?”

“Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful.”

“It’s got flaps. Ear flaps. It’s an ear hat, Josten.” Andrew skimmed the hat across the room to Josten. “What do you mean by more careful?”

“I mean that you’re not exactly a private detective anymore.” He held out his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “You’re this far from famous.”

Andrew’s lip raised in disgust. “It’ll pass.”

“It’d better pass.” Josten huffed. “The press will turn, Andrew. They always turn, and they’ll turn on you. People talk, after all.”

“It really bothers you.”

“What?”

“What people say.” Josten furrowed his eyebrows. Andrew explained, “What they would say about either me or you. Why would it upset you?”

Josten looked away. “Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news.”

He then left with that to turn back to the kitchen. Andrew had the opportunity to call back their little game, but decided against this one.

 

 

Andrew looked at the microscope in the kitchen as Josten came along the corridor leading from Andrew’s bedroom. He had wet hair and rubbed the back of his neck with a towel. The water was dripping down his forehead and Josten did nothing to bat it away. The glistening water, the washed face and the vibrant scars plastering Josten's face, the glowing eyes of the aftermath of a nice steamy shower, all made him stand out. Andrew tried to concentrate more onto the task at hand. He had even let his phone ring out when it started to beep.

Josten frowned as he stared at Andrew’s phone on the table. “It’s your phone.”

Andrew seemed disinterested in it. “Yeah, what a shame. Keeps doing that.”

Josten walked into the living room, went past the body in a suit hanging by its neck from the ceiling, threw himself on the couch and sighed deeply. The body swayed gently in the breeze and Josten closed his eyes, seeming rather tired. He better not get the couch wet.

With disinterest, Josten rolled on his back and looked up, to where the mannequin was in his sight. “So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?” Andrew glanced at the doll and rolled his eyes.

“It's for a case. Damien Fishgard never committed suicide, just a prop.” Andrew sighed. “Bow Street Runners, missed everything.”

“Need any help with that case?” Josten asked.

“No. Easy.” Andrew slammed the notebook closed. “Just finished, actually.”

 

 

At Scotland Yard, Matthew Boyd hurried across the office and opened the door to Wymack’s office. “Wymack, there’s been a break-in.” His eyes were wide as he panted from the run.

Wymack had his feet up on the desk and took a sip of coffee. “Not our division.” He told the forensic officer with disinterest.

Matt shook his head. “You’ll want it. It’s the crowned jewels. They’re being stolen.”

Wymack put down his cup slowly, and the next thing they knew, they were driving the car. They went over a bridge across the river with sirens blaring around them. “Hacked into the Tower of fucking London security! How?!” Wymack groaned. Matt’s phone rang and he answered it. “Tell them we’re already on our way.”

Matt’s eyes went wide. “There’s been another one, another break-in. Bank of England.”

Even so, later on the road, Matt got another phone call. Wymack looked across to him. “What is it now?”

“Pentonville fucking Prison!” Matt exclaimed.

Wymack swore.

The car screamed into the grounds when they finally came to their destination. Matt and Wymack jumped out, racing into the White Tower. Inside, the armed police disabled the lock to the door and it swung open. They charged inside and were greeted with the sight of a man before them, frowning while sitting on the throne inside the case, wearing an ermine trimmed robe, the crown on his head, the orb between his one hand while the other elbow rested on the arm, holding the sceptre across his lap and a far too familiar tattoo on his cheek. His eyes were very cold and distant, basically dead.

“Take me in.” The man had said.

Wymack and Matt could not fucking believe it.

 

 

Andrew’s phone trilled another text alert. Josten was getting fed up by the phone, having been ringing for the past twenty minutes without Andrew even batting an eye. “Well if you won’t fucking get it-” Josten stood up and walked over to the phone, picking it up and checking the message while Andrew continued to look into his microscope. Josten’s face slowly filled with shock. He turned to Andrew, and gave him the phone. “Here.”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Andrew.”

“Not now.”

“It’s Riko.”

Andrew lifted his head rapidly and took the phone from Josten, reading the message.

_I brought you a little toy. My best man. Tower Hill. Have fun. - R.M_

 

 

Andrew and Josten arrived at the Tower and they were watching the recorded security footage taken from behind the man who broke in. It wasn't clear to whose face it could have been, gathering the angle of the camera was panning from behind the male. They watched as he tapped three times on his phone, the exact moments when all the Tower, Bank and Prison alarms went off. They watched as the male stuck gum onto the glass, and then pushed a small object inside the gum. He proceeded to smash the glass with a fire extinguisher, creating a perfect broken hole in the middle of the boxed cage. Josten frowned and Andrew raised an eyebrow at the stunt. 

Instead of taking anything, the male got ready with the gear contained inside the glass, and wore the coat, put on the crown, held the septre and waited. His moves were robotic, like they were practiced, like they were forced. His face was now clear as day. Andrew thought he could place it somewhere, but it was vague in his memory.

“That glass is tougher than anything.” Boyd explained, wheeling around in his chair after showing the boys the footage.

“Not tougher than crystallized carbon. He used a diamond.” Andrew pointed out.

Boyd nodded. "There's something else." He adjusted the footage, putting it into reverse to show Andrew the glass prior to being smashed and result of the damage. He zoomed in the glass, and both boys squinted at a message that was displayed. A message simply read as: _Get Andrew_.

Josten was quiet since beginning of the footage, since he saw a glimpse of the man's face. Andrew turned to look at him, while the latter's eyes were fixed on the screen, at the paused image of the culprit's face on one screen, sitting on the Queen's throne, as his eyes flickered to the other screen displaying the message. 

“Andrew.” Josten said.

“What?”

Josten hesitated for a second, then muttered his next words in German. “I know him.”

Andrew tilted his head and hummed in interest. “Why?”

“We grew up together. He and I, along with Riko.” Josten bit his lip. “His name is Kevin Day. He's _the_ Kevin.”

Andrew glared at Josten. Kevin Day - Josten mentioned his once or twice in the Moriyama episode, was he not an exy star along with his psychotic brother. Having nothing to do with the Moriyamas at all. _Best man_ , Riko had said. Why did he just ruin his reputation for a criminal life? What did Riko mean by best man?

Then Josten explained further, “We saw my father kill a man in cold blood together. We were supposed to be destined to play exy, become Riko's second and third. But since I ran away, he got the end of it, and he was left alone. He must have done something bad to be the face on the video, Riko would not have let him done so unless he didn’t want Kevin to play anymore. I reckon he's a sacrifice for the police eye. I know Kevin. And Kevin wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t do it willingly.” Josten breathed in.

“So Riko’s using one of his pawns. He doesn’t want to be known as the public killer and blow his cover. He’s smart. But one thing could lead to another, so this must mean something else.”

Andrew left the building with a smile, Josten worriedly by his tail. Boyd looked at both of them confused as they walked away, wondering what just happened and why it wasn't in English.

 

 

Neil was standing in front of the mirror in the living room, frowning at his reflection. He didn’t like his hair, nor the scars on his face, body, mind.

But he had to make do.

His eyes lingered towards his clothes and he frowned deeply. He was supposed to wear a suit for the event. For the trial to which he would find out about the man who broke in the most secured place on earth, the man who was told to be Riko’s best, the man who shouldn't have been apart of this at all, the man who watched Neil's father kill another, the man who Neil hoped had not remembered him at all. 

All this for Kevin fucking Day.

What did Riko do to Kevin to make him falter his reputation? What was Riko’s objective?

Neil only wondered what this could all mean.

He finished tying his tie, a few minutes of struggle before putting on his jacket. It wasn't well made, but it was enough. He borrowed one from Minyard who didn't explain jack about how to wear one. Near the sofa, Minyard was buttoning up his own suit while watching Neil's reflection in the corner of his eyes.

“Remember, don’t try to be clever.” Neil told him as he got his jacket to put on, meeting the others' eyes in the mirror.

Minyard stopped him short and grabbed the tie of his suit, startling the young male as he redid the mess Neil had done. “Remember, don’t be a rabbit, running away from Kevin won't help us beat the trial.” He retorted.

Neil huffed as he watched the blond work his hands through the silk. “Remember, keep it simple and brief.” He added on, challenging the male.

Andrew met Neil's blue eyes, annoyed at the add-on, at the challenge, at the idiocy. “Then remember to not insult the judges or make a scene.” Andrew finished it up, falling into Neil's eyes for a few seconds more before walking away and grabbing his own coat.

With that, they headed downstairs and out the front door. “Ready?” Minyard asked, hand close to grabbing the door's handle.

“Yes.” Neil sighed. 

Bracing themselves, they opened the door and a large crowd was seen, trying to interview them on the recent case and why they should be involved. Why Kevin Day, the Exy star, wrote Minyard’s name on the glass and how they would cooperate with such betrayal on Kevin's part. How they think Riko would feel to know his adoptive brother had done such a thing. How heartbroken he would be. Minyard seemed to frown at the commotion and slipped away into his car with Neil by his side.

Police officers were trying to hold everyone back as they drove away, and Neil looked back at the people working for the press, sighing and slouched back into his seat. It would be a long day. And they had all but to wait, seeing if it would be Neil himself that caused havoc, or Andrew Minyard once more. 

 

 

Andrew parked the car and got out, sighing. He told Josten to wait at the Courtroom as he went to the men’s restroom. He looked at the mirror and frowned. What was Riko’s plan in all of this? Why was this all necessary?

He didn't know much about Kevin Day, but no matter how much Josten said he knew him, he was a threat. If Day had wanted protection, he would have come to Andrew himself. He would not have stayed for so long in Riko's nest. He would have not been the pawn to Riko's so-called game, causing him to be the collateral damage to the public eye.

He heard the announcement go on in all intercoms of the building. “Crown versus assailant – please proceed to Court Ten.”

As he turned to fix his tie, breathing in to prepare himself for mass talk in front of other people, explaining a situation he didn't quite get nor couldn't confess without giving so much as a warning about Riko - he knew he had to be in the right state of mind. Become the Andrew Minyard he perfected, the one who contained themselves.

Riko wanted Kevin to become his item of discard, someone who would take all his blame away from him. And this case meant Andrew was deeply involved, deeply submerged in anything to bring Riko down, he just had to find a way to do it without talking in front of others. He had to find what linked Kevin to Riko, and continue on from there. He was supposed to be assigned as a witness, as a person of expertise who was called upon by the assailant himself.

And he knew best not to mention the Moriyama's. They would bring hell if the information was out. Andrew knew it would be tricky, to explain who Kevin Day was without the most vital information.

Just as he was preparing to leave, a young woman came into the bathroom, wearing a deerstalker hat and stared at Andrew in awestruck amazement. “You’re him.” She said.

Andrew frowned. He noticed the I Love Andrew pin on her jacket and sighed. “Wrong toilet.” Andrew told her.

“I’m a big fan.” She ignored his comment.

“Evidently.”

“I read you on the news, read them all.” She stepped closer to him, gazing into his eyes. “Sign my shirt, would you?” She peeled back her blouse, showing a lot of her cleavage and held out a pen. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I have no time for this, you're just one of the two types of fans.” Andrew said, he was getting bored.

“Oh?” The woman said. “Care to explain the types?”

“No.”

The woman frowned. “Oh, why? Bet you I'm the best one.” The woman grinned, her eyes still locked on his. “Can you guess which one that is.”

“You're not a fan.” He said.

She blinked nervously. “Really?”

“No.” Andrew looked at the indentations in her skin just below her right wrist. “Those marks on your forearm, edge of a desk. You’ve been typing in a hurry, probably. Pressure on, facing a deadline.”

“That all?” She looked at him sternly.

“Well, you didn't let me finish. There’s a smudge of ink on your wrist, and a bump in your left jacket pocket.” The woman and Andrew looked down to her pocket from which was protruding the edge of a dictaphone, red light shining onto it, recording every word being said. “Bit of a giveaway.” The woman smiled. “The smudge is deliberate, to see if I’m as good as they say I am. Ink is oil-based, used in newspaper print, but drawn on with an index finger. Your finger. Journalist. Unlikely you’d get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to test me.”

“I’m liking you already.” She smirked.

“You mean I’d make a great feature for the press.” Andrew stared her down.

“Kitty Riley. Pleasure to meet you.” She took off the hat, and held out her hand.

“No.” He said and she frowned. “I’m just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I won’t give you an interview. No, I don’t want the money.” Pushing past her, he headed for the door. Kitty chased after him. For fuck’s sake, can't she take a hint?

“You and Neil Josten – just platonic? Can I put you down for a no there, as well?” She stopped him from opening the door and got in his way, stepping well into his personal space. Andrew didn’t like her at all. He breathed with frustration as he stared into her eyes. They were more or less the same height which meant she was rather small for her age. “There’s all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later you’re gonna need someone on your side.” Reaching into her pocket, she held up her business card and then tucked it into his breast pocket. “Someone to set the record straight.” Good choice in words, Kitty Riley, but not enough to convince Andrew of thinking any more of her.

“And you think you’re the girl for that job, do you? That you don’t want them thinking I’m any different?”

“I’m smart, and you can trust me, totally.” She grinned.

“Smart. Investigative journalist. Well, look at me and tell me what you see.” She stared at him blankly. “If you’re that skillful, you don’t need an interview. You can just read what you need.” Kitty looked away awkwardly and stared away from his glare. “No? Okay, my turn.”

He paced around her and looked down at her body. “I look at you and I see someone who’s still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You’re wearing an expensive skirt but it’s been re-hemmed twice, only posh skirt you’ve got. And your nails, you can’t afford to do them that often. I see someone who’s hungry. I don’t see smart, and I definitely don’t see trustworthy, but I’ll give you a quote if you like – three little words.” He reached down and took the dictaphone from her pocket, holding it up to his mouth as she looked at him hopefully. “You. Repel. Me.” And then Andrew turned to leave the room.

 

 

Andrew had been called to give his evidence and was standing in the witness box. Kevin was in the dock opposite him, staring into nothing, the clean creamy wall of the room, a dark expression on his face. Andrew saw Josten sitting in the public gallery upstairs, watching Andrew and the prosecutor begin the trial.

“As heard from many, the Exy star had a world wide reputation with many fans, a good life well adored, now some people would say Kevin Day is beginning a life as a consulting criminal.” The prosecutor started.

“Works for one. Not his passion.” First minute in, and Andrew already had the judge and prosecutors on edge. All the while he glared at Kevin, trying to figure out what his deal was. There wasn't much being said about his body, nothing that stated his intentions and thoughts. Nothing Andrew didn't already know.

“Your words. Can you expand on that answer?” The prosecuting barrister asked.

“That man was for hire.”

“A tradesman?”

“I mean he is only doing what his master has told him to do.”

“And this master?”

Andrew knew better than to reveal anything else about who the master may be, and deciding on giving hints that could be led to Riko without Riko being involved in the conversation itself. He would do drastic things to Kevin if word got out, Andrew at least had _some_ compassion. He knew what the Moriyama's were capable of. “The sort who’d plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I’m sure he’d make a pretty decent job of being an asshole.”

There was muffled laughter from some people in the court, and the prosecutor frowned at the choice of words. “Would you describe him as-”

"You're leading.”

“What?”

“Can’t do that. You’re leading the witness.” He looked towards the defending barrister. “ _He’ll_ object and the judge will uphold.”

The judge looked exasperated. “Mr. Minyard.” He warned. Andrew noted on what he and Josten remembered to not do. Perhaps he'd have to bend some rules.

“Ask me how. How would I describe him. What opinion have I formed of him. Do they not teach you this?”

“Mr. Minyard, we are fine without your help.” The judge sighed.

Andrew then noticed in the corner of the room, that Kitty came into the public gallery. Josten looked round at her as she found a seat next to him, Andrew expected that to be on purpose.

The prosecutor looked to Kevin. “How would you describe Mr. Day - his character?”

“First mistake.” He raised his eyes and gazed to Kevin. “Kevin isn’t the man in all this – his master however, isn’t either. He’s a spider, a spider at the centre of a web. A criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.”

Kevin looked to Andrew, his eyes bland but holding something else within the depths of it. The prosecuting barrister cleared her throat awkwardly. “And how long…”

“No, no, don’t do that. That’s really not a good question.”

The judge looked at him angrily. “Mr. Minyard.” He warned.

“How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. This is the first time I’ve met him in my life, his master, I've met once, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun, he tried to blow me up.” Andrew shrugged. “I felt we had a special something.”

“Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?” The judge looked at the prosecutor.

“Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample.” Andrew explained with a bored tone.

“Mr. Minyard, that’s a matter for the jury.” The judge glared his way.

“Oh, really?” How boring they were being. His eyes turned towards the jury box, he grinned at Josten who knew what was coming by the distinct look on his face. Andrew turned to look onto the twelve people sitting in the jury box and gave the judge a smug look. “One librarian, two teachers, two high-pressured jobs, probably the City. The foreman’s a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand.”

“Mr. Minyard.” The judge warned once more, coming close to the consequences.

Ignoring him, Andrew scanned everyone’s hands. “Seven are married and two are having an affair – with each other, it would seem. Oh, and they’ve just had tea and biscuits.” He turned back to the judge. “Would you like to know who ate the wafer?”

The judge didn’t seem pleased. “Mr. Minyard. You’ve been called here to answer Miss Sorrel’s questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess.” Andrew looked at Josten again with a smug look. Prowess, huh? Josten rolled his eyes. “Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt.” Andrew raised his eyebrows. People these days. Kevin smiled slightly as if agreeing. Oh, so he did have a different live side to him after all, some emotions over the whole dead ordeal. “Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?” The judge asked.

Oh, how pleasing they all were.

And so, a couple minutes later, they escorted Andrew off the trial.

Apparently they didn’t want to know who ate the wafer.

 

 

Some time later, Andrew was released from his holding cell, he found Josten near the front desk, leaning back while waiting for his friend. “I did say it, didn’t I?” Josten mused.

Biggot probably was pleased Andrew snapped before he did. Andrew frowned his way. “About being too clever? Well, I can’t just turn it on and off like a tap.” He took the bag of items from the custody officer, turning to Josten as they began to walk away. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish.”

“Like you said it would be. Kevin sat on his backside, didn't even stir.” Josten told him.

“Because Kevin’s not mounting any defense. Riko did something to make this occur.” Andrew explained, scowling. “I'm guessing he'll make sure Kevin gets out without arrest.”

“Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Riko broke in whilst using Kevin, no one knows how or why.” Josten recapped as they got to Andrew’s car. He sat down inside, while Andrew gripped the steering wheel. “I'm sure he'll be arrested. All we know is that Kevin-”

“-ended up in custody.” Andrew stopped and turned to Josten. “If Riko wanted the Jewels, he’d have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they’d be out on the streets. The only reason he lets Kevin be in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there. Either because he pissed Riko off or something much worse happened. I'm thinking the latter.” Andrew closed his eyes and breathed. “And somehow this is all part of Riko's scheme."

  
 

 

“Mr. Crayhill, can we have your first witness?” The judge asked, and the defending barrister raised to his feet. Neil was already bored by all the political talk and just wanted to know what would happen in the end. It was clear as day that Kevin would leave, but he wanted to see it for his own eyes. Minyard was banned from this trial, due to his previous. Neil could have laughed. It was supposed to have been the opposite, ironically enough.

“Your Honour, we’re not calling any witnesses.” The barrister said, nervously. There were cries of surprise around the court, and Josten frowned, knowing well what this meant.

“I don’t follow. You’ve entered a plea of not guilty.” The judge looked confused.

“Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence. The defense rests.” He sat down. Kevin pursed his lips as if he knew something. He turned, looked up towards Neil and frowned, but the gaze in his eyes told something else. Like he was pleading for Neil to know. But what was it? Did Kevin recognise him?

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Kevin Day stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which – if he’s found guilty – will elicit a very long custodial sentence, and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty.” The judge said.

There was silence.

“You _must_ find him guilty.” He repeated.

The juries left for ten minutes, deciding on what to do. And when they did, the clerk asked if they had reached a verdict on which they all agreed upon.

One of the jury members lowered his head and several shook theirs in despair. The foreman got to her feet and stared unhappily at the clerk.

Josten’s heart almost skipped a beat.

Kevin Day was found not guilty. The only question was  _how_?

 

 

“Not guilty. You were right. They found him not guilty. No defence, and Kevin’s walked free. This was what Riko wanted wasn't it?” Andrew lowered the phone in hand. “Andrew. Are you listening? He’s out, meaning Riko got what he wanted. He’ll-” But Andrew cut Josten off by closing his phone and throwing it on the seat of the couch besides him. His back straightened when he heard the distinctive noise of the front door being picked and pushed open. He heard the slow footsteps heading up the stairs, and the one stair that creaked when stepped upon. He raised his head when he was met with dark soulless eyes. “Most people knock.” Andrew said to the man. “But then you’re not most people, I suppose. You're an entire bloody prick.”

Riko Moriyama walked further into the room and bent down to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. Tossing the apple and catching it like an asshole he was, he looked around the living room and sat on the adjacent chair facing Andrew. Taking out a small penknife, he started to cut into the apple while Andrew slouched back down in the couch. Riko smiled grimly at the apple and what he was doing. “Aren’t you just a tiny bit pleased.”

“With the verdict?” Andrew asked him.

Riko laughed. “No. With Kevin back on the streets.” He gazed up into Andrew’s eyes, holding such a dangerous aura. Andrew almost laughed, was this supposed to be threatening? “Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” Riko said. “You need me, or you’re nothing. Because we’re just alike, you and I – except you’re boring.” Riko shook his head in disappointment. “You’re on the side of the angels for a devious thing like yourself.”

“You got to the jury.” Andrew stated.

“I got into the Tower of London, you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?” So that was how. He made the juries plead Kevin not guilty by blackmailing them into his will. The power of being a Moriyama. The only question remained that was beneficial for all cases, was why would Riko sacrifice Kevin? He exposed Kevin for the crimes he committed in lieu of what really happened. But he wanted him back somehow, demanded for him to be set free. So, why?

“Cable network.” Andrew deducted.

“Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen. And every person has their pressure point, someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy to manipulate and get my will. Everyone ends up bowing to me eventually, even you. You have a pressure point just as all the others, and I know exactly who that is.” Riko grinned wide.

“So how are you going to do it?” He said. “How are you going to burn me?” Restating what Riko had said the last time they met.

“Oh, that’s the problem – the final problem.” Riko said softly, with more confidence and psychotic manner than anything. “Have you worked out what it is yet? What the final problem is?” Andrew stayed silent. “I did tell you, but did you listen?”

Putting his hand onto his knee, Riko idly started to drum with his fingers. Andrew’s eyes lowered to watch the movement. “How hard do you find it, having to say I don’t know?”

Andrew shrugged. “I don't know.” He said nonchalantly, teasing Riko to an extent.

“Clever.” Riko didn’t seem to be pleased by the sarcasm. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friend yet?”

“Told them what?” Andrew played along.

“Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.”

“No.”

“But you understand.”

“Obviously.”

“Off you go, then.” Riko had carved a piece off his apple and put it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.

“You want me to tell you what you already know?”

“No, I want you to prove that you know it.” He chimed.

“You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to.” Andrew shrugged. “You’ll never need to take anything ever again.”

Riko smiled. “Because?”

“Because nothing. Nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.”

“I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. Larger than anything any of my family could do. No such thing as a private bank account now – they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I own secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with the key is king, and you all should see me in a crown.” Riko told him, with a little laugh that echoed inside Andrew's mind.

Second mistake, Riko told him why he did it. And all to simply brag about it. He was making his daddy proud and Andrew faked a smile. “You were advertising all the way through the trial with Kevin as the actor. You were showing the world what you can do.”

“And you were helping. Big client list, rogue governments, intelligence communities, terrorist cells. They all want me.” He lifted another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife. Andrew wished he slid it further and missed his mouth, cutting the smile away. “I’m their king.”

“If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?” Andrew leaned forward.

“I don’t. I just like to watch them all competing.” Just like how Riko was competing for his sake of being the second child. A shame.

“You don’t want money or power – not really.” Andrew glared Riko’s way. “So what is it all for?”

“I want to solve the problem – our problem, the final problem involving five people altogether. Little number, isn't it?” Riko frowned. Andrew looked to him and tried to figure out who the fifth figure could be. Riko, himself, Josten, Kevin - those he was sure of. The fifth member made no sense. “It’s gonna start very soon, Andrew, the fall of someone you love. Because I want to burn you, but in a way that it will scar forever. You stole what was mine, and I do not like pests.” Andrew raised an eyebrow. He didn’t love anybody, so how could this benefit him? “But don’t be scared. Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.”

“I never liked riddles.”

Riko stood up, straightening his coat, locking his gaze onto Andrew's eyes and said, “Learn to.”

Before leaving, he threw the apple to Andrew who let it sit on the couch, not giving Riko that satisfaction. He soon left, and Andrew observed the carvings on the apple. The simple letters of _mine_  written inside.

 

 

Neil wasn’t happy.

Couple weeks after Kevin’s bail, he was slumping around the house, minding his own business and trying to figure everything out - because nothing was simple nowadays. Minyard noticed this of course, told him to get ice cream if he wasn't doing anything productive. Neil sighed and went out because he'd rather do that than be bored out of his wits. But once he got to the store, he was escorted in the middle of an aisle, two men holding both arms and dragging him away as everyone ignored the commotion, because apparently Mr. Aaron Minyard needed to talk to him. 

Why was he always the messenger boy between the two brothers? Why was he always taking Neil away when he could simply come to the apartment himself?

So here he was, walking up the steps to the building, the one that looked rather governmental and large and everything Neil did not like. Aaron was in his office, pouring himself a drink as he stared at Neil. “Saturday, they’re doing a big exposé.” Aaron told him. Neil raised his eyebrow and Aaron handed him a newspaper which read;

_Andrew Minyard: Shocking Truth. The exclusive reveal by Kitty Riley._

Minyard told him about her the second the trial was over. Neil grimaced as Aaron hummed. The newspaper elaborated on how Minyard was a fraud and all that shit which wasn't so the truth. Thing was, the newspaper read that Minyard’s close friend, Richard Brook, revealed all the info - desperate for money and wanted his name to be out. But who the fuck was Richard Brook? Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “School friend?” Neil took a wild guess.

Aaron laughed which Neil had never heard before. It surprised the male. “Of Andrew’s? He doesn't have _friends_.” He rolled his eyes. “Yet, that is not why I asked you here.”

“You don't like asking me here, you just think I'm someone who can get through to Andrew.”

“I do hate you, that is true.”

“What makes you think I'll tell him? Or help on your weird parent trap bullshit?”

“Because it conveniences you both.” He walked to a side table and picked up several folders. Returning to Neil, he gave him one.

Neil opened the file and scanned the photograph on the top page once over. “Who’s that?” He asked.

“You don’t know him?”

“No.”

“Never seen his face before?” Neil pouted in annoyance. Aaron sighed. “He’s taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you.”

“Are you suggesting we do a neighborhood barbeque?” Neil smiled sarcastically towards Aaron who looked back at him with a straight face, controlling his anger from the stubborn auburn haired male.

“Not sure you’ll want to.” Aaron nodded to the paper. “Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door.”

“It’s a great location. Jubilee lines are handy.” Neil shrugged. Aaron looked exasperated already. “What’s it got to do with me?”

“Dyachenko, Ludmila.” Aaron gave Neil the next file. The next was another portfolio, this time of a woman. “Russian killer. She’s taken the flat opposite yours.” Aaron stated.

“Okay, I’m sensing a pattern here.”

Aaron this time handed him the rest of the files. “In fact, four top international assassins relocate to within spitting distance of 221B. Anything you care to share with me?”

Looking at the photographs of the other assassins, Neil chuckled, then looked up at Aaron. “Are we moving?" Neil smirked. "I suggest somewhere quiet, less people - population wise that is. Country side? No, too obvious. Oh, Antarctica's looking lovely this year.”

Aaron looked to him, amusement by the looks of his narrowed eyes and deep from. The man couldn't take a joke, it seemed. “It’s not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?” Aaron told him.

“You think this is Riko? And how the fuck do you even know Riko?” Neil laughed. “Wait. Governments. I see. People talk.” He rolled his eyes.

“He promised you he’d come back, didn’t he?” Aaron ignored his last question.

“If this was Riko, we’d be dead already. Trust me, I know."

“If not Riko, then who?”

“Why don’t you talk to Andrew if you’re so concerned about him?” Aaron looked away and toyed with the glass on the table beside him. Neil rolled his eyes.

Waiting for a response, Neil only heard Aaron huff out a frustrated sigh. “There's too much history between us, Neil. Don’t get involved.” He warned.

Neil couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled himself up from the chair he was sitting on and put the files back onto the table in front of Aaron. “We’re finished here.” He told him. Let them deal with the assassins, or let the assassin's kill them both. Better than spending another minute in this office.

Neil left with that.

 

 

As Neil crossed the road, he kept on wondering if any of these civilians were secret assassins, raising an eyebrow at any suspicious or even mundane activity. It was weird knowing some of them may or may not want to kill him and Andrew at any given moment, all due to one Japanese bitch who wanted to cause their life hell because he didn't get his way. Since Neil had to walk back home - no thanks to Aaron making their meeting point so far away - he finished his grocery shopping that had been interrupted and came back home after a mindful of thinking, bags in hand and climbing up the three-step doorway to reach the building's front entrance.

When Neil reached for the handle, he saw that a brown envelope had been left on the doorstep. There was nothing written on the front or back, but the back did have a large old fashioned waxed seal over the cover. He opened it, and immediately lots of brown dust fell out. Neil caught some of the debris and looked at the crumbs in hand. While he did so, a man had pushed past him to get inside and Neil was startled by the abrupt shove. Stepping aside, he looked back to see a heavily tattooed bald-headed man carrying a stepladder into the hallway. Neil followed him in, putting the envelope into his pocket. Yet once inside, there was no sign of the man whatsoever, Neil looked around but still no appearance from _anybody_. It seemed almost deserted.

Ignoring the cause, Neil carried himself up the stairs, finally putting his keys for their apartment door.

“Andrew, something weird-” He stopped himself when he saw Wymack and Boyd in the room with Minyard. Neil carefully walked in, putting the groceries on the kitchen table and raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

“Kidnapping.” Minyard shrugged.

“Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S.” Wymack said.

“But he’s in Washington, isn’t he?” Neil asked.

“Not him – his children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine.” Boyd explained, showing Neil the photographs of the two children. 

“They’re at St. Aldate’s. Posh boarding place down in Surrey." Wymack looked to Minyard. “The school broke up, all the other boarders went home – just a few kids remained, including those two.”

“And then the kids vanished. The ambassador’s asked for you personally.” Boyd took out his laptop, but Minyard was already on his feet and heading out the door with his coat over his arm. After a second of groaning, Wymack followed him out.

“Wow. Isn’t it great to be working with a celebrity.” Minyard snarled to the comment. The press must have been gathering loads of cases that Minyard solved, showing them to the world. Their publicity was rising quickly and Neil didn't know if this was a good or bad sign.

Yet that wouldn't stop them from the cases at hand, so they grabbed their things and prepared for another field trip, Neil forgetting what he was going to say when he entered the apartment itself.

He'd remember another time, it seemed.

 

 

Minyard’s car drove them into the grounds of St. Aldate’s boarding school and pulled up outside the front entrance. Two police cars were already there and a woman was standing in front of one of them, leaning against the trunk wearing a shock blanket around her shoulders and crying while a female police officer talked reassuringly to her. A man noticed the four of them coming, and decided to greet them to the scene. The crying woman blew her nose on her handkerchief and sobbed once more. “It’s all right.” The female officer comforted her.

“Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy.” Wymack whispered to Minyard and stayed back, letting Minyard walk over to the woman on his own.

“Miss Mackenzie, you’re in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night.” Minyard sounded rather angry, Neil sighed. “What are you? An idiot, a drunk or a criminal?” Mackenzie gasped as Andrew glared at her. “Now would be preferable. Tell me.”

“All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No one – not even me – went into their room last night. You have to believe me.” Mackenzie sobbed.

Neil smiled reassuringly at her. “We do. We just wanted you to tell us your point of view.” He then turned and walked away.

Mackenzie sobbed in distress and the female police officer hurried over to comfort her in the background. Shortly afterwards, inside the school, Minyard led the others into one of the dormitories.

“Six grand a term, you’d expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?” Neil looked to Boyd. In the meantime, Minyard had already looked in a cupboard against the wall and peered under the bed.

“They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break in.” Boyd explained. Andrew picked up an Exy stick lying on the floor and got to his feet while looking at the stick closely. Neil wondered if these kids liked the sport and wanted to pursue it later on in life. A shame they couldn't anymore.

“The intruder must have been hidden inside some place.” Minyard said. He went over to a wooden trunk and opened the lid. Amongst the other items inside the trunk, he found a large brown envelope with a wax seal on the back, already having been broken as if someone had tried to open it. Neil looked towards it and wondered why it looked familiar. Inside the envelope was a large hardback book. Carefully checking the envelope first, Minyard took out the book and flipped it over to look at the cover. The book read: _Grimm’s Fairy Tales_.

Looking along the edges of the book, then riffling the pages quickly, Minyard looked up at Wymack. “Show me where the brother slept.” 

They were taken to another smaller dormitory and looked around. Going to stand beside the only bed in the room, Neil noticed the beds were still made, adjacent to a smaller window looking outdoors. The window was rather foggy and hard to see through and Neil’s mind lit up. He looked towards the door while gesturing down to the bed. “The boy looked like he slept there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He would recognise every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door.”

Wymack raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so-”

“So someone approaches the door who he doesn’t recognise - an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon.” Minyard interrupted and Neil smiled silently. This was Minyard's way of approving what Neil had said, and that was enough for the younger male.

Minyard walked around the bed. “What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?” He looked to the boy’s possessions. “This little boy, this particular little boy.” He looked at the bedside table and his eyes widened. “A little boy who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?”

“He’d leave a sign.” Neil grinned wide.

Minyard picked up a bat leaning against the nearby cupboard and sniffed along both sides of it. Putting the bat down again, he squatted and sniffed around the bedside table, then reached under the bed and picked up an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil. He looked up. “Get Gordon.” He pointed to Wymack.

Not long afterwards the room had been darkened as much as possible by closing the wooden shutters over the windows. Minyard shined an ultraviolet light onto the wall beside the boy’s bed where the words HELP US had been written on the wall, only visible in the light. “Linseed oil.” Andrew noted.

“Not much use. Doesn’t lead us to the kidnapper.” Gordon said. If only he wasn’t on forensics today.

“Amazing, Seth.” Minyard looked to him.

“Really?”

“Yes. Amazing impression of an idiot.” Minyard pointed downwards, shining the light close to the wooden floorboards. There were several sets of illuminated footprints from the same product used on the walls. “The floor.” Minyard slowly followed them.

“He made a trail for us.” Neil said.

“The boy was made to walk ahead of them.”

“On what? Tiptoes? The footprints are tinier than my hands.” Neil debated when he looked upon the floor, glancing between the footprints and his frail hand.

“Indicates anxiety, a gun held to his head.” Minyard said. He slowly walked out into the corridor and followed the footsteps. Gordon walked beside him with another ultraviolet light, Boyd stayed behind to investigate the room. “The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck.” A few yards along the corridor, the footsteps stopped.

“That’s the end of it. We don’t know where they went from here.” Gordon said. Minyard stopped walking. Gordon turned back to him. “Tells us nothing after all.”

“You’re right, Gordon – nothing.” Minyard hummed. “Except his shoe size, his height, his weight and his walking pace.” He reached down and took out a small lidded plastic Petri dish from his inside pocket. While the police went back towards the bedroom, he put the dish on the floor and concentrated. Neil squatted down beside him as Minyard put something inside the dish.

“Having fun?” He mused.

“I don’t have fun.” Minyard said, putting something inside the dish. “However this case will be rather interesting.”

Neil lowered his head and saw that Minyard was scraping some of the dried linseed oil and floor wax loose. Using tweezers to pick up the loosened pieces, he put them into the container. They could probably get a lot more information out of that small material.

Neil bit his lip as he watched Minyard do what he did best, and asked, “But how did he get past the CCTV? If all the doors were locked.”

“He walked in when they weren’t locked.” Minyard sighed.

“But a stranger can’t just walk into a school like that.”

“Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment. Yesterday – end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What’s one more stranger among that lot?” Minyard looked to Neil with a dark gaze. “He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide.”

 

 

Andrew found Renee walking along a corridor of the hospital, beginning to put off her coat. Just as she reached the end doors, Andrew stopped her short with Josten by his side. “Renee, how nice!” He mused.

“Hello, Andrew.” She smiled. “I’m just going out.”

“Oh, no. No you’re not.” He said.

“I’ve got a lunch date.” She said without any annoyance from Andrew’s part. How naive.

“Date? You don’t date. With whom?”

“Isn’t that confidential?” Her smile didn’t change but her voice did. Andrew frowned.

“Well, whoever it is, cancel it. You’re having lunch with me.” Reaching into his coat pockets, he dramatically produced a bag of chips from his pocket. Three of them. Josten groaned besides him at the choice of lunch. Andrew rolled his eyes at Josten's lack of tastebuds.

“And why am I needed?” Renee asked.

“It’s Riko – we’re trying to track him down. He’s been a bit bad.”

“Riko kidnapped them?” Josten asked.

“Of course it’s Riko.” Andrew faked a smile and reached for the doors at the end of the corridor. Turning, he waited for Renee to make up her mind. She finally gave in, and followed him to the laboratory.

 

 

Wearing her lab coat once more, Renee pushed her way through the door into her lab. As she staggered into the room, Andrew was sitting at the bench in front of a microscope. Josten standing at the other side of the bench.

“Oil, Neil.” He said, opening the plastic dish, taking out on of the samples with his tweezers. “The oil in the kidnapper’s footprint – it’ll lead us to Riko.” He dropped the sample into a test tube which had some liquid in the bottom. The fluid began to fizz. He suctioned up some of the liquid and dropped it onto a slide. “All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is like a passport. If we’re lucky we can see everything that he’s been up to.”

Andrew looked at the slide under the microscope. Time passed when Renee was in on it as well, latex gloves on hand and helping out Andrew find the substance to the oil. She squeezed some liquid into a glass dish and applied some Litmus paper to it. The paper then began to turn blue. “Alkaline.” She noted and turned away to the other station. Andrew raised a brow at the results. He found the first component in the mixture of items. Chalk. Another sample dissolved and this time it was Asphalt. The next, Brick Dust. Another sample, he heated over a Bunsen burner and it came up to be Vegetation.

Andrew looked at the samples on a slide. “Mine.” Andrew said slowly, emphasizing on each letter. It was what Riko wrote, but why? It was obvious he wanted something back, but to who or what he was talking about was a mystery. It could have been about Kevin, about Josten, about Riko's empire, his reputation, Andrew's cases, anything. Andrew turned his head and looked at a nearby computer screen. “Glycerol molecule.” He sighed heavily as he struggled to find the fifth substance to the oil. “What are you?” He mumbled to himself.

“What did you mean, mine?” Renee asked.

Andrew finally came back out of his thoughts and looked around. Josten wasn’t in sight and Renee looked like she was ready to leave. He looked to the clock and realised how late it was, how long he was in the lab for. He silently asked her what she meant by that. “You said, _mine_. You were muttering it while you were working.” She stated.

“Nothing. Mental note.” He went back to the microscope. Renee looked to him sternly.

“You’re a bit like my caregiver at my oldest foster home. However, he’s dead. But when he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely – except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once, and he looked sad. Hiding it behind his other persona.” What was the point to this?, Andrew had asked. Renee sighed. “And so do you Andrew.”

“So do I what?”

“You look sad.” She looked towards the empty room. “When you think he can’t see you.” Andrew lifted his eyes from the microscope and drifted them towards Renee. “You know he waited for you. He slept and waited when you weren’t paying attention. I told him he could have taken a break, to not stay while you studied and examined the substances. He said he was fine and continued to watch you work, _liked_ to watch you work. You don’t realise the small things he does for you, but they are there. If you were wondering where he is, I asked him to get me some coffee, he should be back soon, and you should talk to him. I did my fair share when you asked me to, it's your turn to continue it.” She smiled.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Figure it out. Figure everything out. Honestly, Allison is right when she says you both are like a really bad rom-com where either are too stuck up to realise the most important part of it all.”  Andrew looked to her with a confused gaze. Renee chuckled. “Nevermind.”

The sides of Andrew’s mouth twitched as if it didn’t know how to speak. Before he could though, Renee left. He watched her go, then gazed into the distance thoughtfully for a moment before looking back to his microscope.

The doors flew open a few minutes later with Josten holding a plate of three cups in hand. He looked around the room in search for Renee and furrowed his eyebrows. He put down the cups, two in front of him in hopes she came back and one besides Andrew who didn't acknowledge his presence. He slumped down on the seat, letting Andrew be and thinking the blond wasn’t paying any attention to him like before.

But this time, Andrew could see. 

He watched Josten out of the corner of his eyes as the younger male went through the police photographs taken at the school, before and after the crime scene. The way his eyes would linger longer on more important words than others, how he sometimes tapped his fingers on the table in thought, or flicked his pen round in circles. Every little curve of his being, Andrew noted. Memorised. And he hated himself for it. Hated Neil Josten even more.

“Getting anywhere?” Andrew asked and Josten flinched. Probably not expecting the blond to have talked to him.

“Uh. Yeah.” He said. He nudged to the paper envelope they found in the girl’s room. “That envelope that was in her trunk. There’s another one.” He gave Andrew another one out of his coat pocket. “It was on our doorstep. Found it today.” He pointed to the wax seal on both envelopes. “ _Exactly_ the same seal.”

Andrew reached into the envelope and took out some of the brown dust inside Josten’s envelope. “Breadcrumbs.”

Josten hummed. “It was there when I got back from shopping.”

“A little trace of breadcrumbs, hardback copy of fairy tales.” Andrew’s eyes widened. “Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs.”

“Hansel and Gretel, right?” Andrew nodded in response to that. “Then what sort of kidnapper leaves clues?”

“The sort that likes to brag, the sort that thinks it’s all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me; every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” Andrew put down the envelope and adjusted his microscope before starting to look into it again. “The fifth substance, it’s part of the tale. The witch’s house.”

“He was at our house? You talked to him?" Josten scoffed but Andrew ignored him and went back to his work instead. "Okay, whatever. So what's the fifth substance?”  

“The glycerol molecule. PGPR.” Andrew showed him some of the slides from his work. 

“And what’s that?”

“It’s used in making chocolate.” Andrew said. The younger male nodded. They were quiet for a while, before Andrew said, “Oh and Josten?”

Josten looked to him in question, humming in answer. Andrew threw a grey flip-phone his way, Josten caught it then stared with wide eyes. “What-”

“It’s yours. You need a phone if you want to help me out from now on.” Josten looked like he was going to say something, but Andrew really didn’t feel like it today. “Don’t speak. What if something happens that is needed for a case? How will you call me if you don’t even have a phone? It’s not tracked and never will be.” He said.

“I don’t need your kindness.”

“It’s not my kindness, it’s the fact that everyone’s been nagging me about you not having a phone, and I wanted some damn peace and quiet.” Andrew huffed. Josten looked like he wanted to throw it back to Andrew with full force by the way he was glaring at the blond , but Andrew left the room before he could actually do anything he regretted. Josten would learn. Slowly, he would.

 

 

Wymack handed a sheet of paper to Andrew in his office the next morning. “This fax arrived an hour ago.” He said, sliding it across the desk to Andrew. The paper wrote:  _Hurry up we’re dying!_ Andrew scoffed. Not children’s writing for sure. He handed the note to Gordon who carefully looked at it, scowling. “What have you got for us?” Wymack asked.

“Need to find a place in the city where all five of these things intersect.” He handed Wymack a piece of paper to which he wrote all 5 substances.

“Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation-” He read. “And what the hell is this? Chocolate?”

“I think we’re looking for a disused sweet factory.” Andrew told him.

“We need to narrow that down. A sweet factory with asphalt?” Wymack suggested.

“Too general. Need something more specific. Chalk. Chalky clay – that’s a far thinner band of geology.”

“Brick dust?”

“Building site. Bricks from the 1950s.”

Wymack rubbed his temples. “There’s thousands of building sites in London.”

“I’ve got people out looking.” Andrew shrugged.

“So have we.” Gordon defended. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“You don't have a homeless network – faster than the police. Far more relaxed about taking bribes.” He smiled. Sitting at his own desk, Gordon looked up at Andrew and rolled his eyes.

Andrew’s phone alerted that he had a text, followed by several more. He brandished his phone triumphantly at Wymack while the messages continued to pour in. Smiling smugly, he called up a map, flicking his eyes across to the phone to look at each photograph sent and then transferred it to the map. He found a close up shot of some purple flowers and showed it to Wymack. “That’s Josten.” He said.

“The flower?"

"The text." Andrew looked at him like he couldn't understand a simple word.

Wymack looked surprised. "He finally has a phone? A miracle.”

“Well, the flower is important however. Rhododendron ponticum. It matches." He went back to the map online and scanned around it to the only places in London where such a plant could grow. He finally found the one place which contained the plant and the other elements as well. “Addlestone. There’s a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches everything.” He turned and hurried out of the office while texting Josten to meet him there. He still probably was not used to the phone, considering he hardly used one before, and never liked it. Scared for each text that he would get.

Wymack turned to Gordon and Boyd, “Right, come on.”

Gordon hesitated.

“Not today, Gordon.” The addressed man groaned and left with them.

 

 

Several police cars raced to a disused factory. They ran inside the dark building and everyone switched on their flashlights. Gordon coordinated the police as they started to search in all directions. Wymack led another team, including Andrew and Josten, into another part of the factory. Wymack directed his officers the same.

As they made their way deeper into the factory, Andrew found a large number of empty sweet wrappers scattered on the floor around a candle on a plate. Josten touched the wick of the candle and winced. “Just alight moments ago. They’re still here.”

The search continued all around for the lost children.

Andrew picked up the wrappers and looked at it more closely. “Sweet wrappers? What’s he been feeding you?” 

Josten took one of the wrappers and beamed his flashlight onto it. He sniffed the paper before touching the tip of his tongue onto the wrapper and grimaced. Then Josten’s eyes lit up with fear. “Mercury.”

Wymack paused. “What?”

“The papers, they’re painted with mercury.” Andrew looked to Josten as he explained. “Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate-”

“The more it was killing them.” Andrew interrupted.

“But it’s not enough to kill them on its own. Taken in large enough quantities, _eventually_ it would kill them.” Josten nodded.

The police - including Wymack, Gordon and Boyd - continued searching the building but Andrew was now locked onto his thoughts about Riko. “He didn’t need to be there for the execution. Murder by remote control. He could be a thousand miles away.”

Nearby, Boyd saw something in the light of his torch. He moved closer and saw a little girl sitting on the ground with her brother’s head in her lap. His eyes were closed. The girl looked around at Boyd.

“The hungrier they got, the more they ate and the faster they died.” Andrew grinned in another side of the factory, looking to Josten. “Smart.”

“Over here!” Boyd called out on the other end. Everyone ran in his direction and Boyd reached down to the children. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

 

 

Andrew was pacing outside the hallway while Josten sat nearby on a bench. The door to the office opened and Wymack and Gordon came out. Gordon scoffed when he saw the two boys. “Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn-”

Wymack looked seriously at Andrew, interrupting Gordon’s comment. “Remember, she’s in shock and she’s just seven years old, so anything you can do to-”

“Yeah, don’t be myself.” Andrew repeated. He looked round to Josten. The latter nodded and they left the hall to inside Wymack’s office.

The little girl was sitting at a table looking down into her lap. A female liaison officer was sitting beside her, stroking her arm reassuringly. 

“Claudette.” Andrew spoke up to get the girl's attention. The girl lifted her head, took one look at him and began to scream in terror. She scrambled to get away while pointing at him. 

“Out. Get out.” Wymack pushed Andrew out of the room as the girl’s screams continued behind.

Shortly afterwards, Andrew was standing at the window of another office looking out into the night through the slats of the blinds. Gordon stood at the other side of the office watching him thoughtfully.

“Makes no sense.” Josten looked at his hands in confusion.

“The kid’s traumatised. Something about Andrew reminds her of the kidnapper.” Wymack said.

“So what’s she said?”

“Hasn’t uttered another syllable.” Gordon scoffed.

“And the boy?”

“No, he’s unconscious, still in intensive care.” Wymack explained.

In the building opposite Scotland Yard, all the lights in the offices came on. Andrew raised an eyebrow. On the windows, spray paint had been applied to the glass. Andrew stared at the enormous letters that have been painted. _Mine_. Seconds later, the lights on that floor went out again. Behind Andrew, the others were unaware of what he had just seen, their view blocked by the blinds. Andrew furrowed his eyebrows.

Wymack continued to speak, “Well, don’t let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room. In fact, so do most people.” He looked round to Josten and Gordon. “Well, let's get going.”

With that, Wymack and Josten left the room. Gordon stayed behind as Andrew turned away from the window and walked towards the door.

“Great work you did.” Gordon grinned. “Finding those kids from just a footprint. It’s really amazing.” There was a snarky aura to his words. Andrew hesitated momentarily, then continued on walking away from him.

Outside of the buikding, Josten waited for Andrew to join him and then looked down the street once he did. “You okay?”

“Thinking.”

Josten stared after him in disbelief, then sighed. That was all he'd get from the blond all night.

 

 

 

Andrew came back from his turn of grocery shopping, lost in thought as he sat in his car. In hunger, he opened a pack of gummy bears and started munching on them. He plugged in his phone so he could watch his shows, not wanting to drive back just yet. His legs were seated over the passenger's seat, making him comfortable as he waited in the parking lot.

Partway into his episode, an advertisement started to play. He groaned and threw the wrapper away into the small compartment of the car that served as a bin while he waited for the ad to finish.

“This is a stunning evening wear set from us here at London Taxi Shopping.” The woman on screen said. “As you can see, the set comprises of a beautiful-”

The video went fuzzy, as if another channel was breaking through. There was momentarily words on the other end. Andrew looked to the screen and frowned. Eventually the static stopped, and a man was seen smiling cheerfully. Or trying to at least. Andrew furrowed his eyebrows, then it hit him on who the person was. The same person he saw about a couple weeks past, the one who allegedly broke into London's most secure places and got out with a simple  _not guilty_.

The one and only Kevin fucking Day.

Behind him was a pale blue wall with painted white fluffy clouds floating across it. “Hello. Are you ready for the story?” Kevin said, seeming to struggle through his words with a smile. Andrew raised an eyebrow, knowing well what it looked like when someone was reading off from script. He had recently completed a case with the matter. “Well folks,” He mused. “I must entertain you all with the story of Junior and Doe.”

 

 

Back at the Foxhole Court, Seth was showing Wymack one of the photographs. “The footprint. It’s all he had to solve the case. One fucking footprint.” He explained. There was no way Minyard could have solved something so complicated and make it simple within seconds. Thinking he could get away with anything because he was allegedly smart and had a mind like his own, others thinking it was normal or that he was just extremely  _smart_.

Everything was bullshit. From the start to finish, from Minyard to Josten. Everything didn't make sense.

Wymack frowned at Seth, a look to which he received too often and made him think he was incompetent of actually thinking. It was always there, ever since Minyard had arrived. “You can’t blame it on them.” He told him.

“What? He has caused too many problems. It is clear as day that it could be him.” Seth tried, nudging the photographs to his superior, trying to make him see the connections. It was a perfect alibi - being a detective who solved everyone's problems. But deep inside, there had to be something. To that cold look, and that murderous background, Andrew Minyard was a force to be reckoned with.

“Well, that’s why we need him. _They_ are better. He couldn’t have done this.” Wymack was persistent on defending his detective. 

“That’s one explanation.” Seth smiled, gathering up suspense for his point.

“And what’s the other?”

“Only he could have found that evidence.” Seth continued. “And then the girl screams her head off when she sees him – a man she has never seen before.” A pause. “Unless she _had_ seen him before.”

“What’s your point?”

“You know what my point is. You just don’t wanna think about it.” Seth stood opposite Wymack’s desk, slamming his hand on the wood to make it evident he was being serious about it. Perhaps to unleash hidden anger he felt upon the case at hand, or the small tick that his mind was looping over and over with. He just wanted answers, wanted a reason to dislike Minyard.

“You’re not seriously suggesting he’s involved, are you?” Wymack glared at him.

“I think we have to entertain the possibility.” Seth smiled and took his evidence as he left the room. He grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. Thinking that perhaps, in the meantime, he could see someone that could actually do something about it.

 

 

Neil sat down watching Exy when the news hit him. The advertisements were on, only for a second before the static appeared. Before he widened his eyes at the man before him. Kevin continued to fake a smile on the TV screen. The story he told - the one of Junior and Doe. 

Nobody knew of the name Junior. Not since Lola and his father. Not since then.

How would Kevin Day remember? He might as well have been a beacon of light, bringing his father's circle right to his front door step.

"They were the bravest and cleverest knights at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of their stories about how brave Junior was and how many dragons Doe had slain.” Kevin continued on, explaining the story as he went. His eyes never faltered from that cold dead stare, and it sent shivers down Neil's spine everytime.

Behind Kevin, the pale blue background got darker and the white clouds became grey and threatening. “And soon the normal people began to wonder, are Junior and Doe’s stories even true?” Kevin shook his head. “No.”

Neil widened his eyes, wanting to switch off the TV already but the buttons weren't working. It didn't shut off and no channel would change.

“So one of the knights went to King Arthur and said: I don’t believe Junior and Doe’s stories. They were just big old liars who made things up to make themselves look good. And then even the King began to wonder if this was true.” Kevin’s eyes were distant and Neil couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything.

Kevin was in trouble. 

 

 

“But that wasn’t the end of Junior and Doe’s problem.” Andrew looked to the man on the screen. He got out of the car with the phone in hand, playing the video.

While looking around, Andrew realised that the city had broadcasted the same story on every TV there was. On every building that portrayed an advertisement screen. Everywhere was filled with Kevin's blank face in the way others wouldn't expect to be different than their average Exy star. His professional facade was gone, the only thing left was the distraught man left by the abuse of his so-called brother. “That wasn’t the final problem.” It resounded in the air, the voice being heard from every location. “And now it’s the end.”

All screens showed a red velvet curtain dropping down as if covering a theatre stage on screen. The shot changed back to the jewellery advertisement from before on his phone.

The billboards went back to normal, their own advertisements as everything made it seem like nothing changed at all.

Andrew stopped in the middle of the road, unaware that another car was speeding along behind him. As it sounds its horn in warning, a stranger hurried off the pavement, pushed Andrew's body away onto the other side. Everything happened so quickly and the pacing car zoomed away. Andrew took a moment to breath, realising that he was seconds away from being crushed by that car. The man looked warily towards Andrew, and then to the hands onto his chest that lingered there a little too long. Andrew noticed this, and frowned. He shoved the stranger off, but his eyes widened when he heard gunshots. Three bullets fired into the man in quick succession from somewhere behind Andrew. The man slumped to the ground, dead and holding the same expression he had when gazing upon the touch. Andrew spun around, trying to find the source of the gunfire, not seeing anything in sight while wondering what the fuck just happened.

Some time later Andrew stood twitching his fingers fretfully while an ambulance crew wheeled the stranger's body away. The blond got back to his car, and began to drive back to Baker Street, after fillinh out a witness report.

He soon got a call from Josten and gripped his steering wheel tightly, answering the phone. “Andrew, I need to talk about-”

“Presumed you heard the news about the man who was shot?” Andrew interrupted.

“Yeah, I mean that too. It’s him, right?” Josten said. Andrew was glad he was using the phone more frequently now. He presumed Josten got ahold of the news of the deceased man, knowing well it wasn't a coincidence he died by simply being near Andrew. Josten coughed through the silence of his friend. “I mean, Sulejmani or something. Aaron showed me his file. He’s a big Albanian gangster who lives two doors down from us.”

“He died because he touched me.” Josten didn’t say anything. “He saved my life but he couldn’t touch me. Why?”

He reached the apartment soon enough. Once inside, Josten looked rather distressed. Andrew slammed his keys on the table which skidded across the wood and onto the flour. “Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn’t come here to kill me, they have to keep me alive.” Andrew pointed out. He sat down on the chair while Josten went over to pick the keys up. “I’ve got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me-”

“-the others kill them before they can get it.” Josten continued for him.

Andrew grunted in agreement and opened up his already prepped laptop, typing rapidly on the keyboard, navigating away from the website for St. Aldate’s School and calling up a list of local Wi-Fi networks. There were five of them and he checked their signal strength and the names of the networks, each of which was in a foreign language. Whenever he was stuck on a few words, he'd show Josten who translated what he could. Either being random everyday objects, or words that made no sense altogether. They were uncommon for networks names. “All of the attention is focused on us. There’s a surveillance web closing in on us right now.”

“So what have you got that’s so important?”

Andrew thought for a moment, then ran his finger along the table beside the computer where the keys scrapped the surface. He looked back to his fingers. “We need to ask about the dusting.”

Shortly afterwards, Bee had been dragged into their flat. Andrew was hurrying around the room checking for dust on all the furniture. “Precise details, in the last week, what’s been cleaned?”

“Well, Tuesday I did your lino-”

“No, in here, this room. This is where we’ll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust.” He lifted his hand from the latest piece of furniture that he had been running his finger along and twirled his finger dramatically in the air, causing powder to rise. “Dust is eloquent.”

Bee looked over her shoulder to Josten. “What’s he on about?”

Josten shrugged. Andrew climbed on the furniture to look more closely at the top shelves of the bookcase to the left of the fireplace. “Cameras. We’re being watched.”

“What? Cameras? Here?” Betsy frowned.

The doorbell rung and she hurried out of the room. Checking the books on the top shelf, Andrew realised that the one on the far right had more movement around it than it ought to been, and he pushed it deeper into the shelf, revealing a camera stuck to the side of the books. As he reached up to remove it, Wymack came into the room. “No, David.” Andrew told Wymack without even glancing his way.

“What?” Wymack stopped in his tracks.

Andrew took down the camera. “The answer’s no.”

“But you haven’t heard the question.”

“You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking.” Andrew finally turned to Wymack and walked closer to him. Wymack pulled in a breath as the shorter male smiled at him, more malicious than anything. He seemed like he wasn’t convinced by the truth he was told, but Andrew didn’t care whether or not he agreed to it, he just didn't like being taken into custody. Blaming people. To be or not to be blamed. All Andrew knew was that he didn't do it, Wymack should have known as well. But protocol was protocol. 

“Andrew...” Wymack looked apologetic.

“The scream?” Andrew raised his eyebrow in question. The look on Wymack’s face meant he was right that it _was_ about the scream. “Who was it? Gordon? I bet it was Gordon. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? That's what you want to ask." Andrew laughed and tapped his head furiously. "Ah, Riko is smart. He planted that doubt in her head, that little nagging sensation. You’re going to have to be strong to resist. You can’t kill an idea, can you? Not once it’s made a home there.” 

“Will you come?” Wymack pursed his lips and Josten looked to the both of them, knowing not what to do.

“One photograph – that’s his next move. Riko’s game. First the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch because I'm in the path of what he wants.” He looked at the camera for a moment, smiling to it like the person watching would see his full front teeth. Andrew then raised his eyes to Wymack, the smile never fading. “It is a game, Wymack, and not one I’m willing to play. Give my regards to detective Crouton. Or don’t. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Josten, despite being confused, snickered at the nickname Andrew gave Gordon. The blond linked the camera onto the computer and pulled up the live footage, ignoring everything around him. Wymack left the building and Andrew looked to Josten who seemed rather confused. “They’ll be deciding. We only have minutes, so do something for me.”

“Who’ll be deciding?” Josten asked.

“Gordon and Wymack. Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me.”

“You think?”

“Standard procedure.”

“Should have gone with him. People talk.”

Andrew saw the smug look Josten gave him. Fucking Josten. “I don’t care what people say.” He admitted, not so an honest truth as it was something that everyone knew of him.

“You’d care if they talked about how wrong you can be.”

“No, that would just make _them_ wrong.” They locked eyes for a long moment. “Why do you ask? Are you thinking they would be right?”

“No, I know you. I was just suggesting.” Josten titled his head.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Sure about that?”

“Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time.” Josten huffed out. Andrew looked to him, and as Josten turned away, a hint of a smile played on his lips.

"For that, I have a task I need you to do."

 

 

  
Wymack sat in front of the desk of the Chief Superintendent Charles Whittier, while Seth Gordon stood nearby. The man had a title of a name, and loved every part of it.

The Chief walked around his desk to sit down behind it. “Andrew Minyard?” He asked confused and startled. Perhaps even a sprinkle of disgust and anger. Everything less than happy. Nobody knew if he was often serious about what he said, or if he constantly had a resting bitch face. All Seth knew was that he was the sort of arrogant asshole that no matter what it was, he'd find the blame in almost anyone.

“Yes, sir.” Wymack nodded, seeming displeased about seeing him today. 

“That bloke that’s been in the press? With the other kid?” Wymack hummed in answer. “I thought he was some sort of private eye.”

“He is.” Wymack knew where this was going, and dared to say he didn't like it. Seth was rather happy that it was happening. For once, it wasn't fame and pride that came off from Minyard, but something new. That he'd be famous for some other reason altogether. Seth didn't want it for himself, didn't want chaos that ensured from it, just wanted to show people that Minyard wasn't as true as he was said to be. He had a knack for people who thought they were better than him, and assholes who deserved what they had been giving. 

“We’ve been consulting with him – that’s what you’re telling me? Not used him on any proper cases, though, have we?” Whittier huffed like it was all a joke, that Wymack wasn't dumb enough to take in junkies who couldn't get a job if it killed them. But people knew of Wymack, knew that whoever he recruited had a story to tell, and needed a second chance. So if Andrew Minyard was someone that Wymack could trust, he was certainly a good role for a Fox.

Whittier, however, did not see the appeal in it. He thought of it as troublesome for the department and considered the people to be a threat. Including Seth.

So Seth knew that if he had to get through to someone on this very topic, and he'd have made sure it was Charles Whitter. The bloke who could stop anything with a raise of his hand, or a single word thrown about.

“Well, one or two.” Wymack answered him, looking like he was on the verge of an aneurysm from everything going on. The dude had suffered through the trials of Kevin Day, the break-in of the most secured facilities in London - England, even - and the boys who were always the centre of it all, the boys who he'd actually rather defend then cause any harm.

Seth scoffed, arms folded over his chest and looked anywhere but Whittier’s eyes. “Or twenty, or thirty. Perhaps even in the hundreds.” He added on.

“What?” Whittier snapped.

Seth sighed, knowing well that he didn't want to involve himself more but wanted to press on the subject so Whittier could make amends. “I’m not the senior officer who did this.” He turned to Wymack.

Whittier glared at Seth. “Shut it, kid." Then back to Wymack. "An amateur detective given access to all sorts of classified information, and now he’s a suspect in a case?”

“With all due respect-”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Wymack. Now go and fetch him right now.” Wymack hesitated. “Do it.”

Wymack walked out with Seth on his tail, making their way to the office. “Are you proud of yourself?” He asked him.

Seth looked to Wymack with a shrug. He wasn't so proud of the outcome, just wanted Minyard to not be a threat anymore to the department. He was a monster that could be provoken at any moment, he was someone who had taken the fame that the Foxes deserved and didn't have a care in the world for anybody else. So was Seth proud? Not entirely, but it was what he had to do.

“Well, what if it’s not just this case? What if he’s done this to us every single time?” He explained, grabbing his coat and groaned at the disappointed look Wymack was giving him once more. Wymack had predicted this wouldn't go well, and had wished Minyard good luck. Seth didn't see it, couldn't care as well. Perhaps the reason he wanted this so bad, was because he saw a little of himself in Minyard. He wouldn't admit it, but it stuck to his mind like glue. Deep inside where nobody but himself could hear it.

He watched Wymack pace around the room, trying to ring up someone as he waited for the line to connect and Seth wondered if what he really did was okay.

But he had no time for regrets. He had to see what happened and go on from there.

 

 

Neil put Minyard’s phone down when he was done with the call, then turned to Minyard with a sigh. “So, you are quite popular apparently." He paced around the room. "It’s Wymack. Says they’re all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs. Every single officer you ever made feel like a bitch, which is a lot of people. Could be even more than myself, and I'm me; sarcasm is within the package.”

Minyard appeared to be taking no notice of him and Neil didn't like it. Betsy gave Neil a sympathetic look and handed something to him. “Some man delivered a parcel. I forgot to tell you both. Marked perishable – I had to sign for it.” Neil took the bag from her and immediately realised that there was a wax seal over the top. Minyard looked across to the exchange. “Funny name. German, like the fairy tales.”

Minyard's gaze was intense as he walked to the parcel. Well _now_ he finally paid attention.

Neil opened it and pulled out the contents. Just as he did, several different sirens were heard outdoors. In Neil’s hand was a large gingerbread man but it was an unusual colour of ash and dust. He tilted it so that Minyard could see it better. “Burnt to a crisp.” Minyard said.

The vehicles pulled up outside and the sirens stopped. Doors started to slam as people got out of the cars. “What does it mean?” Neil asked.

The doorbell rang and at the same time someone pounded on the front door. They were here. Here to take Minyard.

“I’ll go.” Betsy said with the least happiest face of them all. She turned and hurried down the stairs as someone continued to knock on the door in rapid successions and brute violence. Voices could be heard from the door as Betsy opened it to greet the surprising guests, all while outside had a commotion bigger than expected. Perhaps because hearing that Andrew Minyard were to be arrested was the greatest hit of the week. People from all over would come enjoy. Neil dreaded to think how this would end.

He put the gingerbread man back into the envelope and onto the table before heading out of the flat, as Minyard didn’t seem to want to talk and just stared at the table where the gingerbread man was placed down.

Downstairs, Betsy sounded angry. “-don’t barge in like that. You could have just knocked.”

Neil saw Gordon smirk behind Wymack, who seeming to just let Gordon be. Neil felt his lip's twitch and tried to hold composure. Didn't seem to work as Neil felt his ears ring at the sight of everyone standing by the door. He had white knuckles from clenching his fist too hard, knowing well he shouldn't let this get to him, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent.

That was until Gordon started to mouth off about the imbecile Minyard was and how much he'd be happy to finally see him behind bars.

Neil took one step towards the male and his eyes landed on the others. “If you think you can arrest Andrew, you all are all fucking idiots.” He snarled and pointed a finger towards Gordon's chest. “He may be an asshole, but he wouldn't do anything that would terrorise his job, or harm the people he cares for. He does everything he does to protect others and if any of you flying fucks knew that, this wouldn't happen. Finding evidence from a foot print is common sense, knowing well what he could do with two seconds from looking at someone. Do you even have a warrant?” Neil asked them all. “Have you?!” He was about to go in full-form rant however Wymack stopped him short.

“Leave it, Neil.” He said, trying his best to calm the younger male.

“No, _David_ , I won’t. You can't just fucking come in here-” Then he heard Minyard walk down the stairs, and turned his head to look at him incisively, Neil was automatically cut off by the presence of the male alone.

Gordon stepped through Neil, practically pushing him away.

“Andrew Minyard,” He grinned. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping.” Gordon took Minyard’s arms, looked to Neil as if to say that was evidence enough. Yet Minyard didn’t resist, which was the main thing Neil noticed from the situation. Neil tried to come at Gordon, his arm was raised to punch the bloke however a police officer close by grabbed his wrist to pull Neil away. He was fuming with anger over the idiotic system they had going on here, but once he looked to Minyard again, the blond seemed to want Neil to let it be. Why did he let it be? 

Minyard hated people touching him and to just let Gordon cuff his hands together behind his back, to go to the station without resisting....

No.

Neil couldn’t let them.

They couldn’t take Minyard away, not when he was the closest thing he had to a home.

Minyard looked to the startled man. “It’s fine, Neil.” 

Neil sucked in a breath. Was this anger? Why was he feeling anger? Well, all he knew was this fucking _sucked_. “No, it’s not fine. This is bloody insane.” He snarled towards Gordon, then to Wymack.

“Get Minyard out and don’t let Josten follow.” Gordon told the other officers.

The officer's grip tightened on Neil, to make sure he wouldn't come after them. Fuck them for thinking that. Apparently they thought Neil wouldn't keep his word and stay where he was. Were they right to keep him away? Probably. Absolutely.

Neil tried to thrash away from their grasp, to at least be free from the pressure rising in his stomach. He watched as some other officers took Minyard out of the apartment, keeping Neil steady so he wouldn’t follow them. But Neil would run if he had to, if it were the only way he would get to Minyard. He would run through the state and back. 

Wymack held a pained look on his face, Gordon’s was smug. Neil couldn’t do anything and Minyard didn’t seem like he would either. Betsy was almost in tears when Minyard was finally out of their sight, away outside and probably to never see 221B again.

Neil wanted this to end, wanted them to realise the mistake they had made. For Gordon to blow this off, for Wymack to have more control on the situation. For others to be rational and for these fucking officers to, Get. Off. He didn't want Minyard to live through bars again when his life was getting better than what he had suffered through before. “What have you done?” He snapped Gordon’s way.

“Oh, I said it.” Gorden put up a hand to make sure it was okay that Neil was released from their grip. Neil massaged his wrists, and looked around for a possible exit that didn't have a police officers guarding it. He then looked back to Gordon, his eyes filled with fury when seeing the male.

“Said what?” He finally asked, keeping his anger steady for him to keep things sane for Minyard's sake. He didn't want to get arrested either, then again, there was no way for the boys to get out of this.

“First time we met. I said that solving crimes wouldn’t be enough for him. One day he’ll cross the line. Now, ask yourself. what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?” Betsy gasped and seemed rather annoyed by Gordon's way of thinking. Neil agreed with her. He was being irrational, he wasn't thinking about what this would cause him. 

“Gordon.” A man Neil didn’t recognise walked in the apartment lobby. He was tall, had slicked back hair, and looked like a fucking asshole, that's what he was.

“Chief Superintendent Whittier.” Gordon smiled menacingly.

So that was the man who took Minyard away.

“Got our man?” Whittier asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Looked like a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me.” Neil turned towards him and narrowed his eyes. Keep calm, he told himself. He should stay quiet and follow the rules given to him by Minyard. To stay and take care of the camera, to stay and take care of Betsy, to stay and make sure everything was fine on his leave. “Often are, these vigilante types. Pathetic beings.” Whittier laughed and then he noticed Neil’s stare.

“What are you looking at?”

Fuck the rules.

 

 

A minute or two later, the Chief Superintendent walked out onto the street holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose and bruised face. Andrew raised an eyebrow to the scene. The police officers seemed rather distressed by their boss looking like he got out of a fight - in which looked like he had lost. Andrew asked himself who had Betsy angered now. Or perhaps Whittier had an unexpected run with their broken dispenser.

“Are you alright, sir?” They had all asked, gathering around for medical attention concerning their boss.

Andrew had been leaning against the side of a police car, ready to get in. That was the moment when Neil Josten was slammed up against the car next to him. Andrew looked across to him with an amused expression on his face. “Joining me?”

Josten smirked. “Yeah. Apparently it’s against the law to punch the Chief Superintendent in the face.”

Behind them, a couple of armed officers unlocked the cuff on Andrew’s right hand and transferred it to Josten’s right wrist, chaining the boys together. Andrew looked over his shoulder, watching what the officers were doing and where they were standing. 

“Bit awkward, this.” Josten held a smug look. “Who’s going to bail us, now?” He asked.

“I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape.” Andrew said. “Forget bail, people people will talk, what with these chains linking us together? What was the purpose of it, anyways." Andrew huffed, then looked down at the radio lying on the dashboard of the car they were leaning against. The radio squealed as the dispatcher spoke. “All units to two-seven.” The voice said.

Josten looked round to Andrew’s statement. “Wait..." He looked like he just seemed to notice what Andrew had said. "What escape?”

Rapidly, Andrew reached through the open window of the car with his free hand and pressed down on a button. Instantly the officer behind the boys doubled over in pain and grabbed at his earpiece when a high-pitched squeal ripped through the device. Andrew reached behind him and pulled the officer’s pistol free, instantly raising it to the officers and detectives around. And because they were cuffed together by one wrist each, Josten’s hand was yanked upwards, right near the gun in Andrew's left hand. He grunted in surprise at the rapid turn of events.

Andrew called out as he aimed the pistol towards the nearest officers, ignoring Josten's confused face. “Ladies and gentlemen, will you all get on your knees?”

Wymack’s jaw opened but he did nothing to stop them both. Andrew saw the hint of a smile portrayed on his lips. Gordon looked constipated, however.

When nobody reacted to his demand, Andrew sighed and fired bullets into the air. “Now would be good.”

“Do as he says.” Wymack stepped in.

Only when all the police started to kneel, was when the boys started to walk away backwards from the scene. Seeing as this would only lead them so far, Andrew transferred the pistol to his right hand and promptly aimed it to Josten’s head. “My hostage.” He told them, so none would think to follow. Josten widened his eyes at Andrew.

“Great idea.” Josten muttered in annoyance.

They continued to back away from the kneeling police. They came close to an alleyway, a few feet away and looked to each other, mentally planning on what to do from there on out. They were nearly out of sight when Josten whispered, “What now?”

“Doing what Riko wants – we’re becoming fugitives.” He stated, then stared at Josten. “Run.”

He turned and began to race off down the road, dragging Josten with him. Wymack buried his head in his hands. The Chief Superintendent got to his feet and turned to him. “Get after them!”

Wymack glared furiously at Gordon as he began to head in the direction the boys had gone.

Around the corner, the two boys ran along side by side, Andrew looped the loose chain between their handcuffs around his wrist. “Take my hand. Yes or no?” He asked, holding out his bare palm.

“Yes.”

Andrew grabbed Josten’s hand which were rather small, soft and firm, in comparision to his as they raced on forward. “Now people will definitely talk.” Josten told him.

Sirens were approaching at the junction ahead of them. Andrew swerved to his left and dropped the pistol in the process. It clattered to the ground, mixing with the riots starting in the inner city.

Andrew shoved Josten down a side alley as the police car raced straight across the junction. They ran down the alley and reached a high railing blocking their way. Andrew lept onto the top of a dustbin and vaulted straight over the top of the railings and onto the other side. Josten was still on the other end of the railing, and his right hand was dragged upwards, face almost smashed against the grate. Andrew looked back and grinned, Josten was rather pissed with his arm squished against his face. His face was pouting and adorable. Or not adorable, because Andrew hated him.

Josten reached through the railings with his free hand and grabbed Andrew’s coat, dragging him closer and glaring into his face. “Andrew. We’re going to need to coordinate.” He said, cheeks puffed.

“Hop over.” Andrew said.

“Huh?”

“Go to your right and hop over.”

He looked upwards and went up onto his tiptoes to get the spiked railing off the entrapped cuffs and Andrew followed his motions so Josten went over the railing safely.

Not long afterwards, they continued to run down the alley again, hand in hand. Reaching a small junction, Andrew turned to the right, then immediately broke and ducked back the way they came as a sirening police car raced past the end of the alleyway. The two of them leaned side by side against the wall catching their breath for a moment.

“Everybody wants to believe it – that’s what makes it so clever.” Andrew looked into Josten’s eyes. “A lie that’s preferable to the truth. All my deductions were just a sham. No one feels inadequate – Andrew Minyard was just an ordinary man.”

“What about Aaron? He could help us.” Josten sucked in a breath as Andrew dragged him across to the other side of the alley and peered around a wall.

“A big family reconciliation? Now’s not really the moment.”

Their hands were getting rather sweaty, but Andrew shrugged it off. He spun around, dragging Josten in a circle behind him and looking back the way they came. Josten spotted something at the end of the right arm of the wall. “Andrew.” He elbowed the blond to turn him in that direction. A face was peering around the corner at the end of the alley. Andrew grimaced at the sight. “We’re being followed. I knew we couldn’t outrun the police.” Josten said through breaths.

“That’s not the police. It’s one of our new neighbours from Baker Street. Perhaps he can give us some answers for once.”

He broke into a run in the opposite direction from where the man was watching them. Running to the next corner, they flattened themselves against the wall as they reached it and Andrew looked around the corner. There was no sign of any police in the street but a bus was approaching. Andrew pressed himself back against the wall again. “We’re going to jump in front of that bus.” He said, Josten scoffed thinking he was joking.

But Andrew was already on the move and dragged Josten out into the street. Halfway across the road, Andrew screeched to a halt directly in front of the approaching bus. Josten’s eyes widened as they were both facing the large vehicle without moving out of the way.

Right on time, the assassin charged into the road, threw himself at them and shoved them out of the way as all three of them tumbled to the ground while the bus drove past, its horn blaring in frustration.

Before the assassin could recover, Andrew sat up and dragged the man’s own gun from his jeans, then cocked and pointed it at him. “Tell me what you want from me.”

The man stared at him with horror but didn't speak. Andrew moved the gun’s muzzle closer to him. “Tell me.”

“He left it at your flat.”

“Who?”

“Moriyama.”

“What?”

“The computer keycode.”

They were quiet for a while and Josten gripped Andrew's hand slightly. Andrew clicked his tongue at the assassin. “Of course. He’s selling it – the program he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around.”

Three gunshots rang out and the assassin dropped to the ground. Andrew stared up in the direction the bullets came from. Not another fucking one.

He looked to Josten, then swung around and raced off as police sirens approached again, probably thinking Andrew was on a rampage killing people now.

So the boys ducked into an open doorway for safety and took a moment to catch their breath. “It’s a game-changer. It’s a key – it can break into any system and it’s sitting in our flat right now. That’s why he left that message telling everyone where to come. Get Andrew, it said. It wasn't to physically get me to the scene, it was to tell them where the key was. Only those who truly know Kevin is apart of the Moriyama crime, would know what the message really means.” Andrew explained. “We need to get back into the flat and search.”

“CID’ll be camped out.” Josten told him, then raised an eyebrow. “Why plant it on you?” 

“It’s another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I’m best pals with all those criminals. It thickens onto the plot of me becoming the criminal Riko wants me to be. First Kevin Day, second the screaming girl, then the assassins, and perhaps next the secrets. We don't want that leaked, otherwise there is no turning back from it. No way to clear my name with that information. Because if I'm gone from the picture, then nobody is there to protect you from Riko. I figure that's what  _mine_ means. You will be his just like he wanted.”

Josten looked to Andrew as if looking right through him, what he was really thinking. It didn't last long until Josten's gaze flickered to something on the floor. He spotted a pile of newspapers nearby and picked up the top copy. “Have you seen this?” He asked. Andrew scanned it over. It was an article edition of Andrew, written by Kitty Riley, telling her all the gossip informed by so-called Richard Brook.

Andrew frowned. “A kiss and tell. By someone called Dick Brook.” 

“Yeah, but look at it. _Really_ look.” Josten told him, trying to get Andrew to see what he was seeing. Finally he looked to Josten as if everything was clicking together. Oh, Josten was a genius sometimes.

“Kitty Riley is next in Riko's plan.” He confirmed, thinking more to what Riko would do to burn him like he said he would. And this was it. The perfect opportunity right in front of him. “This is where my secrets come to play. Information about my past that could get me thrown in jail for a long time, enough for Riko to not have a care in the world about me, or what I could and would do. A simple block in his path, gone and discarded easily as this.”

Josten nodded, finally understanding. “And what better way to deliver that corrupted information than by giving it to a reporter herself to spread it world wide, with a perfect alibi by the name of Richard Brook who was gradually handing out rumours. Who wasn't Riko himself, no one would beleive that, but Kevin Day. That's where Kevin plays his role. And soon rumours to be true, soon to be dark, soon to make you fall like Riko wanted.”

They had better make a little detour then, not that the boys were heading anywhere in the end. 

They had to make sure Riko would be the  one to fall, they had to stop him before that information was leaked for the world to see.

 

 

Kitty Riley parked her car outside her home, got out and locked it behind her before walking to the front door. She always checked twice before anything. Security was her biggest fall. And she wouldn't let anything past, especially at time lime these.

Once inside, she walked along the hall to the door of her two-floor flat, then paused and looked at the door nervously when she realised that it was slightly ajar. Had she not checked twice this morning?

Hesitantly, she pushed the door open and reached for the light switch on the wall. The lights came on and she was greeted with the sight of Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten sitting side by side on her sofa, each of them drumming their fingers from their cuffed hands, waiting for the woman to have entered her home. “Too late to go on the record now?” Andrew smirked towards her.

 

 

Not long afterwards, Kitty Riley was sitting in an armchair while the boys stood in the middle of the room. Andrew was using a hairpin to pick the lock on his handcuff provided from Kitty's drawer. “Congratulations. The truth about Andrew Minyard.” He spoke after freeing his hand, giving the hairpin to Josten before starting to pace back and forth in front of Kitty. Josten opened his cuff in half the time it took Andrew. Andrew was either impressed or jealous from the speed. “The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo.” Andrew continued.

“I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so-”

“And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?” Kitty shook her head, refusing to tell him any more. “Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés, those sessions in the hotel room where he talked into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets and ready to give you anything.” Andrew huffed. “What were his credentials?”

Outside in the hallway there was the sounds of someone coming in through the main front door. Now Kitty looked towards the door of the flat and rose to her feet with a concerned look on her face just as someone pushed her door open. Andrew turned to follow her gaze as Kevin Day, wearing casual clothes walked in with a shopping bag.

“They didn’t have any ground coffee so I just got normal-”

He rose his eyes and stared in terror at the sight of Andrew Minyard, whose own eyes were wide. Kevin dropped the shopping bag and backed away until he bumped into the wall behind him, holding up his hands protectively in front of him. “You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You said that I’d be safe here.”

Kitty went up to him with a frown and worried look. “You are safe, Richard. I’m a witness. He wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses.”

Josten’s face darkened. “So that’s your source? Kevin Day is Richard Brook?” His teeth were bared and Josten glared at Kevin, breathing heavily in pure fury.

“Of course he’s Richard Brook. There is no Kevin Day; criminal mastermind. There never has been.”

“What are you talking about?” Josten’s nose flared.

“Look him up. Richard Brook – an actor Andrew Minyard hired to be Kevin Day the Exy Star. He's a stunt double, do you not see?”

Andrew stared at Kevin, who was still holding up his hands and looking at everyone nervously. Kevin’s voice was shaking as he turned to Josten. “I know you’re good people.” Josten stumbled backward at the terrified look Kevin was giving him. “Don’t hurt me.” Kevin said.

Andrew almost laughed. He was an actor. He was. But just not for the people, not for anybody, not to anybody but one person. An actor to only satisfy Riko's sadistic and satanic needs. Was this how Riko got Kevin out? To portray himself as a fraud? To pretend Kevin Day had a fucking stunt double? How daft had Kitty been?

Josten snarled at him, pointing towards Kevin furiously. “No, you are Kevin fucking Day!” His head turned towards Kitty. “He’s Kevin!”

Kevin put his hands briefly over his face, sounding as if he was almost crying in fear. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He gestured towards Andrew. “He paid me. I needed the work. I’m an actor. I was out of work. I’m sorry, okay?”

Breathing heavily, Josten turned to Andrew with an expression of horror. Andrew saw the trail of voice Kevin was letting out. There was something he was trying to say, something he couldn't tell in front of Kitty. Perhaps there was a camera. Perhaps he tried too hard on the words being thrown around, tried to heard to perfect the Richard Brook Kitty and Riko told him to be. Perhaps even Riko sent out Kitty on Andrew the first time they had met in the bathroom. “Andrew, explain. I think I’m going crazy here. I am not getting this.” Josten looked to Andrew, Andrew kept his eyes trained on Kevin.

“Oh, I’ll be doing the explaining – in _print_!” Kitty handed Josten a folder. “It’s all here, conclusive proof.”

Josten looked at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article. The headline read: _Andrew’s a fake sadistic murderer._

Oh, the irony.

“You invented the story on Kevin Day, someone who was an sports player you chose out of the blue. So his stunt double showed up and you hired him to act like the star, then throw him into the fake criminal loop. And I know why... Kevin was getting more famous than yourself.” Kitty smiled proud, Andrew thought her insane to believe such a story. “But now you'll be even more famous, with the history you have. You killed your mother and killed your foster mother's son, didn't you? Everyone will know the name Andrew Minyard after I publish this article.”

Josten looked upset. “Invented the story?” Apparently that was what shocked him the most.

Kitty hummed. “Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain. Someone to which portrayed your childhood.”

“Oh, don’t be bloody daft.” Josten laughed.

Kitty turned to him with a glare and pointed to Kevin. “Ask him. He’s right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard.”

“Look, for fuck’s sake, this man was on trial. I know him. I know he’s Kevin Day. Why would Kevin Day have a fucking stunt double. Where would he get one? There's only one out there for all I know, and he damn knows me well. Don’t let Riko get to you like this, Kevin. I fucking grew up with you, I-” Josten realised that was not the right thing to say because Kevin broke for a moment or two, or perhaps it was a good thing because it was clear that Kevin was acting for the sake of Riko. He was remembering small things from his past, or trying to respond to what was being told. But Andrew saw the hesitation, the control from the urge. He looked as if he couldn't physically fight off what Josten had told him, forcing himself to stop talking altogether. That was when Andrew knew there was something wrong with the situation.

Despite it, Kevin was not entirely the most brightest of gents. It seemed as if he was just realising that Neil Josten was the Butcher's son, something that struck him wild. He was having trouble concentrating on what he had to do. Something so he had to do in order to not get beat by his so-called brother.

“Yes, but you paid him.” Kitty smirked in, adding onto her pride. “Andrew, and perhaps even yourself, Neil Josten, had paid Richard to take the blame. Promised he’d rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I’ll bet the money was good.” She walked over to Kevin and put her arm around his shoulder. Josten looked like he was going to be sick. “But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.”

Kevin looked plaintively at Josten. “I am sorry.” Andrew’s eyes raised to Kevin’s as there was an actual truth to the apology, that Kevin was seeing Josten for the man he remembered as a child. He was acting before, pretending to not know anything. Which even to Andrew was blatantly obvious. But this one. This word. It was genuine.

Josten gazed at Kevin but didn’t hold it for long, he looked back to Kitty. “So this is the story that you’re going to publish. The big conclusion of it all, Richard's an actor that described Andrew's childhood well?” He asked.

“Show him something.” Kevin went back to the acting, looking to Kitty. Andrew wondered what left Kevin if he didn't stay in line.

“Yeah, show me something.” Josten challenged Kevin who almost broke character again.

He was not doing a good job. Kitty was oblivious as hell.

Kitty walked across the room. Josten turned to watch her as she reached into a bag for more information. For a brief moment, Kevin changed to a straight face and blank expression when Kitty was turned, disregarding the act of Richard Brook. She soon came back with a folder and handed it to Josten. Kevin changed his appearance back to the worried male. “He's on TV. He's on a kids’ TV. He's The Storyteller.” Kitty explained.

Josten looked at copies of Richard Brook’s contact details taken from an agency website, then a newspaper article showing a picture of Kevin, headline reading: _Award Winning Actor Joins The Cast of Top Medical Drama_. Kevin looked across to Andrew again, this time keeping his Richard facade on but there was something in his eyes that showed worry, for Andrew to help him while Josten continued looking through the folder. 

Baring his teeth, Josten started to walk towards him. “No. I can't believe it. I can't believe you. Stick up for yourself, Kevin. Fucking do something to get Riko off your back. I know you, I know you would do anything for this to stop and you have the chance now. I’ve known Kevin Day all my life and he's an arrogant prick, that's for sure and he wouldn't deal with anybody's shit.”

Kevin backed away from Josten and up a short flight of stairs towards the bedroom on the upper level of the flat. His eyes were wide and terrified. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you lay a finger on me!” He warned.

“Stop it.” Josten snarled. 

“Don’t hurt me!”

Josten chased after him.

“Don’t let him get away! Leave him alone!” Kitty shouted behind them.

Kevin ran into the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. Josten and Andrew ran up the stairs together, seeing Kevin turn to them with a struggled look before briefly slamming the door shut. Andrew ran to the door and struggled momentarily to open it. He backed away before kicking it down, but Kevin had already disappeared through the open window in the room. There was a crash outside as if the man had landed on top of a dustbin. Andrew looked out of the window, then turned to stop Josten from coming in.

“He’ll have back-up. Riko probably saw the commotion through camera and are already on their way to pick up trophy boy. We should be worried, having blown Kevin's cover and everything, they won't be nice to him.” Andrew told him.

He headed towards the stairs. Kitty backed down to get out of his way but didn't move quick enough, slowing him down. “Do you know what, Andrew Minyard? I look at you now and I can read you.” Andrew stopped at the bottom of the stairs as she got into his face. “And you repel me.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and turned, heading out of the door. Josten, still holding the folder of the articles about Richard Brook, shoved Kitty aside and followed his friend. She closed the door behind them, angrily. The boys went out onto the street and Josten stopped while Andrew began to pace rapidly back and forth in the middle of the road.

“Can he do that? Completely change someone’s identity, making you the criminal? Can Riko do that?”

“He’s got my whole life story. That’s what you do when you sell a big lie, you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable.”

“Your word against his.” Josten nodded in understanding.

“He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours. I think he’s trying to get to you.” Josten paused. “He's getting me out of the way, trying to take me to jail. All because he wants to get you without me by your side anymore. I am your anchor, keeping you in the public eye. I’m the bridge between you both and he wants me gone. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to-”

Josten noticed the way Andrew was cut off. “Andrew?”

“There’s something I need to do.”

“What? Can I help?”

“No – on my own.” Andrew briskly walked away.

Josten watched him, sighing, then looked down at the papers again. There was something off about them, having seen something similar happen before. Josten then headed off into the opposite direction, knowing what else he had to do.

 

 

Aaron walked across one of the common rooms, where an old man was fast asleep in an armchair. He sighed at the hard day's work, and went into the smaller private room of his own - his office and safe place.

When closing the door behind him, he stopped when he realised that Neil Josten was sitting in his main chair, looking through Kitty’s file.

“She has really done her homework, this Kitty Riley – things that only someone close to Andrew would know.” Neil smirked upon seeing Aaron. “Have you seen your brother’s address book lately? Three names; yours, mine and probably his cousin - gathering the postal code.” Neil pursed his lips, holding in anger. “And Riko obviously didn’t get it from me.”

Aaron walked across the room to face him. “Josten-”

“So how does it work then, your relationship with Riko? Do you go out for a coffee every now and then? Thought you were close with Katelyn. Should I tell her you're having an affair with a fucking psychopath?” Aaron sat down in the chair opposite him, and opened his mouth but Neil interrupted again with a laugh at Aaron's struggles. “Your own brother, and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac. Who then appeared to tell it to Kevin, making it harder for not just one, but two people. Kevin Day is innocent and you made it worse than it could ever be.”

“I never intended-”

“So this,” He looked to the papers. “Is what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it? Watch his back and all. Cause you think I’ve made a mistake.” Neil slapped the papers down on the table beside his chair, clearing his throat as he tried to stay calm. “How did you meet him?”

Aaron drew in a long breath. “Normal criminals, we know about them, we watch them and then we do something about them. But Riko Moriyama, the most dangerous criminal mind who the world doesn't even know about, thinking it’s someone else entirely and convinced Riko was innocent in all of this, actually had the ultimate weapon in his pocket all along - a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock any door.”

“And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?” Josten asked.

“Interrogated Kevin for weeks.”

Josten paused for a moment. Oh, this was different. Very, very different. “Kevin? And not Riko?”

“He wasn’t the mastermind, but people thought Kevin was. It would of made more sense if someone were to find out. But if they saw something different, perhaps say a Moriyama, then things would go to hell. Kevin it had to be, then.”

“Kevin Day. You hurt Kevin Day?”

“We didn't _hurt_ him... He wouldn’t even play along.” Aaron explained, a little frustrated. “Of course it had nothing to do with who he was, or who he belonged to at the time. The government simply took him in for questioning. Having broken into the highest securities in England concerned a lot of people, you know? It was the day after he went on trial. But once interrogated, he just sat there, staring into nothing. The only thing that would make him open up would be Riko ordering him to do so. Perhaps because Riko told him to never share his little secrets without a few conditions. Years of endurance himself, the abuse and torment Kevin went through. And in the end it all resolved to _this_. Riko's bloody plan. I wanted no part of it, but my role here handed me the information without short term notice, I had only but to comply with the amends, giving them what they wanted. So when Riko found out, knew Kevin would be in our custody, I somehow knew Riko put it together. That he Kevin being here was meant to happen. I don't know... Riko knew he'd be with us, and the only time he would talk is if-”

“If you were giving him private information.” Neil concluded. “So in return you had to offer him Andrew’s life story. The government arrested Kevin, Riko found out and took the bait instead. Riko knew you'd give Kevin the information. So one big lie – Andrew’s a fraud – but people will swallow it because the rest of it’s true.” Neil leaned forward in his chair, a smile on his face he never wanted to see. Never wanted to be reminded of. “Riko wanted Andrew destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition. Well fucking done, Aaron.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes. But Neil was done with him, he pulled in a sharp breath and stood to his feet, turning towards the door.

“Neil.” Aaron called behind. Neil turned back, and saw Andrew's brother look up at him with dread. He looked like he realised what mistake he had made, but Neil didn't have time for it. So he left Aaron alone to swallow in his own guilt.

 

 

Andrew sat alone on the floor in his lab, with his back against the bench and his eyes focused on the cracked ceiling. He was bouncing a small rubber ball off the floor and kept bounding it against the wall and back until Josten came barging in.

“Got your message.” Josten said the moment he entered. He looked worn out.

Andrew caught the ball and held it tight in his grip. “The computer code is the key to this. If we find it, we can use it – beat Riko at his own game.”

“What do you mean by use it?” Josten asked.

“He used Kevin to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook.”

“And bring back Kevin Day again, make him clear of his name.”

“Somewhere in 221B, somewhere – on the day of the verdict – he left it hidden.” He turned and dangled his legs off the bench, facing Josten as the latter stood by the door at the end of the room. Josten walked to stand beside him, unconsciously mimicking his stance. They both hummed. Both staring ahead, thinking.

Josten pursed his lips, then looked at Andrew. “What did he do?”

“Touched an apple. Nothing else.” Andrew briefly drummed his fingers on the bench. That didn't seem to be the right answer according to Josten, perhaps he should have reworded it.

“Did he write anything down?”

“No.” Josten hissed in a breath and looked away. After a moment, he walked across the lab, blowing his breath out again. Andrew lifted the fingers of his right hand, hesitated for a moment, then began to drum again. He lifted his head as Josten sighed heavily. Straightening up, Andrew turned his back to Josten, took his phone out of his pocket and began to type a text message to the unknown number he stole from Kitty Riley's house.

 _Bart’s Hospital rooftop,_ was all it said at first.

He paused for a moment, then added,  _Got something of yours you might want back._  
  
Sending the message, Andrew tucked his phone away into his jacket and then turned back towards the bench, his eyes full of thought.

 

 

Some hours later, dawn was breaking. Andrew was still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a stool with his feet up on the bench. He was toying with the rubber ball to pass the time, while Josten had sat on a stool at a nearby bench, his head down on his folded arms. He was calmer asleep, Andrew noticed.

Then Andrew's phone rang, starting the young male awake. He looked around anxiously before realising it was just Andrew's phone and listened in tiredly as Andrew answered.

“Who is it?” He listened for a moment then got to his feet. “I’m coming.” He then switched the phone off.

“What is it?” Josten said through closed eyes, his breath steady.

“Paramedics. Bee – she’s been shot.” Andrew told him.

“What? How?” Josten was standing up now, wave of sleep washed away from him.

“Well, probably one of the killers we managed to attract. She’s dying. I have to go.” Andrew turned towards the door.

“Andrew wait-.” Andrew turned back to him, face contorted into something he didn’t know.

“No. You go back home. Stay there until I come back. Promise me.” He gave Josten a look.

“But-” Josten stopped himself from speaking anymore, connecting his eyes with Andrew's. He pursed his lips and nodded, knowing what he had to do.

Andrew had to go in alone. He didn't want to jeopardise Josten or Kevin's safety, nor put them in any danger than they already were in. He had promised him he'd sort out everything involving Riko, so they didn't have to threat about it anymore. He had to lead Riko astray, and this was the only way Andrew knew how. 

Because Andrew had to say chat with Kevin Day and sort the whole fucking crisis out.

 

  
  
On the roof of the hospital, daylight had come. The boys, prior to the phone call, had pretty much stayed the night at the hospital where nobody else found them. It was good. Made for a better outcome.

Kevin Day wore a typical suit and overcoat, hair styled perfectly, and was calmly sitting on the raised ledge at the edge of the roof with his phone in his hand. He turned when he heard Andrew. There was silence for a while as Andrew came close to him and Kevin looked somewhat anxious for the whole ordeal. He did not like his position, did not like Riko, had no backbone to help himself and was stuck doing everything that gremlin told him to do.

Finally, Kevin broke the silence. “Andrew” He said, calmly.

“Where’s Riko?”

“Doing his work. Pretending he isn’t involved in all of this.” Kevin sighed, all emotions gone. All Richard Brook gone. Now he was just Kevin Day - with a little less spirit and energy. Everything was gone, placed in the void Riko had made.

“Are you here to finish Riko’s problem? Or is there another reason?”

Kevin tilted his head to look at Andrew. He shrugged. “You decide.”

“If Riko wanted to solve his problem, he’d be here right now.” Andrew straightened out his armbands. 

“It’s so boring, isn’t it?” Kevin sighed, Andrew watched him slowly break in his place. “What I do? It’s boring to you. I've been following Riko all my life, doing everything he says and you would find that nothing but boring. What you, me, Josten are to Riko. Riko’s 'little problem' – the final problem, he called it. The problem which is basically just you being the anchor for Riko to get what he wants.” Andrew didn’t say anything, Kevin sure needed to get a spine. Jesus. “It’s just,” Kevin held out his hands in confusion. “All my life I’ve been searching for a distraction to all of this, for someone to bring Riko in his place. You were the best distraction and now Riko thinks he doesn’t even _need_  you anymore. Because he thinks he’s beaten you already.”

Andrew's eyes stayed on Kevin as he got up and started pacing around. “And you know what? In the end it was easy. In the end, Riko sold me away. Told me I was worthless. Said he didn’t need me in his games anymore so he’d use me for something else instead. Something that could make him king, something that would ruin Andrew Minyard, get me out of the spotlight, make Josten learn his place - killing millions of birds with one stone. He wanted to impress his father, to make him realise what power he still had. So he _used_ me to get it, without causing commotion his way. Only his father, him and I knew the truth. Until you came along. That’s when he realised he needed you gone. That's when he realised the only way to Neil Josten was you. I didn't even know Nathaniel was apart of this, I just had to follow along... It... He used me, Andrew. I had nothing left.”

Andrew looked to him in the brink of his panic attack. Kevin continued on his broken monologue while Andrew tried to process what Kevin would become. “It was easy for him. Riko told me what to do after the trial, to play as Richard Brook, to play with Kitty Riley so the press would know. That everything was fake, that everything was a lie. Riko found out, used it to his advantage. Said if he wanted me to have his freedom, I'd have to take interest in fucking Kitty Riley. She's a bitch, Minyard, a huge bitch! I hated every second. Yet none of this would ever last, I'd never last. After you gone, replacing the crimes I made, after having... Nathaniel back, we'd both go back to Riko.”

Kevin lowered his head again and rubbed his face before looking up at Andrew. “What interest do I hold? Nothing. Nothing to let you help me. Riko wanted something different in the end. He created my persona after the trial. I didn't have protection, he could do anything. I didn't have a choice. He threatened to kill me and everyone I made contact with.”

“Richard Brook.” Andrew added.

“I never understood the joke to it. Riko thought it was hilarious. Nobody understood either. But you did, apparently.” Kevin rolled his eyes, sighing into the fresh air, as if it would be his last.

“Of course.” Kevin smiled to that. “Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach – the case that made my name the first time round.”

“Good. So did you finally figure it out?”

“Beats like digits.” Andrew said. “Every beat is a one, every rest is a zero. Binary code. That’s why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me, hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system. And all Riko did was tap his fingers.”

“It was funny, I was there at the time Riko came back victorious from your little meeting. Riko told all his clients, last one to Andrew was a sissy. He’s a child, a spoiled child.” Kevin was almost furious. "So I went to Kitty Riley and explained your story like Riko wanted me to, and ran off after that. The moment you came, I knew it would never escape me. Knew that the moment Kitty send that article, I'd go back. I didn't want to go back. Knew this was my last chance to escape for good. Away from Riko, away from everything and to not endure anymore than I had to. Because that was the last part of Riko's plan, to get the news out about you being a murderous fraud. He'd have no more use for me once that was done. He'd have killed me, or as an endless toy to play with. So I took the opportunity to run away from the house, run away from Riko... And here we are now!” Kevin looked pained.

“Yes, but I can use the code to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring you back without the threat of Riko.”

Kevin gazed to him for a moment, then winced. His face turned to frustration and anger. “But you wouldn’t. This was all Riko, he wanted me to tell the world how powerful I was, but everyone knew well enough. They knew it was all Riko. He wanted to impress everyone without taking any of the blame. In exchange, got me out of games so the awards would all go to him. But things got out of hand, all because you came along and tried to solve everything. So he took all those measures, led me to the government so he could get info about you, sent it to Kitty Riley. I didn't have a fucking say in the matter. I was a fucking _pawn_. Loading more ammunition into the cause unwillingly. I would have been glad if I was plead non guilty, but the feeling in my stomach said otherwise. I was saved from a lifetime behind bars, simply to put me under the war instead. And all because he wanted Nathaniel, telling you there was a key to it all to save him... It’s laughable because there is _no_ _key_.” Andrew raised an eyebrow to Kevin's exposures, at the simple confession of a broken man. He was fed up with Riko it seemed, and Andrew perhaps thought he wasn't so boring after all.

The tangent he went on showed Andrew how much Kevin was dealing with. Kevin didn't seem like the type to rant on about just anything. He was desperate. “The key to the code, for you to take everything you have on Riko and blame him instead. To save yourself and perhaps Nathaniel with it. All to which would do nothing in the end. He planted it in your head to give you hope, but it was only to watch you dance at his strings and wait until you realise what you had been chasing was nothing in the end.” Kevin was almost hysterical. “Those digits are meaningless. They’re utterly meaningless. They won’t save me. Nothing will. You don’t really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around his ears? No, it’s Riko himself that will. Nothing will save me, Andrew. Nothing!”

“The rhythm-”

“Riko got to you. He fucking messed with you, Andrew. It’s not in the beats. If you listened carefully, it’s the beat to Edgar Allan’s theme. The anthem.” Kevin seemed so on edge, his Irish accent was leaking through big time, some of his words running past Andrew's head. Half of it was a jumbled mess, gibberish to tongue.

Andrew’s lip twitched. “How?”

“How did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?” Kevin turned and spread his arms wide, his grin out of desperation. “Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants and a fucking _Japanese_ _mafia_!” He shouted to the world, yet on this rooftop nobody would have heard him. It seemed more from anger that was kept hidden for a long time, secrets to which Kevin only knew and was fed up with knowing. “Riko knew you’d fall for it. That’s your weakness – you always want everything to be clever, to have a mystery and riddle. You're a fucking lunatic. Sometimes, it's not all about that, _Minyard_. Now Riko wants to finish the game. The final act.”

Andrew stared blankly into the distance, then back towards Kevin. “He wants me to commit suicide.”

“It’s why he made the articles. _Genius detective proved to be a fraud_. It's why he told me to help Kitty Riley, I almost hesitated because things were going too far. My mind almost snapped when he gave me those set of orders. But what would it do, the articles are made and Riko killed her the moment you left the building. He took the proof of you being a fraud and will do anything to take it on himself to beat you. So that was the reason why I ran off for good, to not be killed afterwards, or worse - to be tormented and tortured by the fucker for eternity without Exy by my side anymore. You must understand, Andrew... How someone would evade death, after everything they'd been through?” Kevin's mouth twitched down.

“But you said you are here to deliver his message, not to solve Riko’s final problem.” Andrew said.

“I knew you’d say that.” Kevin frowned. “No, I’m not here to complete his work. I ran. I ran to the one place I knew I’d be safe. Nathaniel did the same after all and look at him now.”

“You ran to the Foxhole Court.” Andrew concluded. “And for what?”

“I wanted...” He trailed off. “I needed you to make me a promise.”

“I don’t take charity cases.” Andrew told him.

“Then don't make this a charity case and just help me.” Kevin looked to his hands, confused and tired, one of them seeming broken and destroyed in a month or so's accident. “Keep me safe.” He looked into Andrew’s eyes. Andrew stared at him, unsure of what to do. If he took in Kevin, Riko would be on his ass twice as hard. Becoming a threat to everyone in the Foxhole Court, specifically Josten. If he didn't, Kevin would surely die and Andrew would become a fugitive.

“I already have a dumb witted figure to deal with.” Andrew told him, adding on fuel. “Why should I need another one? Where would you go? How do you think by staying there, we could provide you safety?”

“Wymack knew. He knew what happened, and he said by being his assistant I could get the reputation I needed in order for Riko not to touch me. To stay with him for a while...” Andrew narrowed his eyes as Kevin tried to find more words to convince the blond, his mind straining to keep a straight face before turning to panic once more. “You can’t save me by beating Riko’s game, but you can by providing me a place away from him. Your protection.”

“Not in my apartment, that’s for sure.” Andrew huffed at how easy it was for Riko to just walk in there. He also wondered what that conversation with Wymack looked like if Kevin just barged into his office and asked Wymack for a job. He waited a moment, before taking a more serious approach. “What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll give you a future.” Kevin replied quickly. Andrew raised an eyebrow, he planned this it seemed. Mentally planned on how Andrew's safe-future would be, if the matters he had to deal with ever resolved themselves. Plans only someone as tortured as Kevin Day would think of, the only hope he ever had. “It would make sense. By becoming Wymack’s assistant, I can surely get you a place in the Foxhole Court. I may not have a large say in the matter, but you are wanted because they don’t believe you. Because you aren’t as loyal enough to them. Look at Whittier, he's against you because of it. You don’t have an actual job, don't involve yourself with the Foxes like a normal detective, your savings will run out eventually.” Kevin explained, his eyebrows knitting together.

Andrew laughed at Kevin trying to convince him. So he expected to have run away from Riko with the threat of getting killed, become Wymack's assistant and then provide Andrew a job in order to become less of a fugitive than he was. In return, Andrew's protection? A waste. “How do I know you aren’t planning this because Riko told you to?” He teased.

“Because I don’t want to suffer anymore.” Kevin, despite the tired look about him, displayed no emotions throughout the whole scene, his eyes told Andrew everything he needed to know. “I hate it there, I hate him. He made sure I never returned to Exy with my broken hand, then sealed it off with the crimes and trial.”

Andrew thought about it, and then he sighed. Kevin looked at Andrew for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. Andrew was thinking he was an idiot, that was for sure. But what more was another promise to fulfill. What more was another rabbit to take care of.

All panic on Kevin's face withdrew, and with that he began to genuinely smile.

 

 

Neil ended up getting a taxi home because Minyard didn’t think too much about the plan. Go home, he had said. Neil scoffed. With what? His legs? He could run across states, but Andrew had other plans and told him to be somewhere, so he didn't feel like having a run. He wouldn't have made it.

He ended up outside his apartment, and Neil jumped out of the taxi, walking towards the door, scrabbling to find his keys. Inside, he saw the tattooed bald workman standing at the top of his stepladder just in front of the stairs, drilling a hole into the wall as he normally did. He nodded lazily to the man, who stared at Neil a little longer than usual. Neil wondered if he ever stopped drilling the whole, or ever got off that ladder. Does he sleep on it at night?

But that was not what got Neil's attention. He found Betsy just a little up ahead, watching the man work and talking to him like nothing was wrong. 

Neil walked towards her, and she jolted in surprise at his appearance. “Oh, God, Josten. Don’t scare an old woman like that.”

“Betsy.” He greeted, then looked towards the building's front window, knowing well what would happen.

“Is everything okay now... with the police? Has Andrew sorted it all out?”

Neil stared at her for a moment longer and wondered when the plan would carry out. If only Andrew was a little more verbal with what he wanted Neil to find, rather than use keywords such as Betsy dying and staying home. He knew what they had meant, but he didn't know the context. He looked around the room subtly, and finally wished Betsy a good day before heading back out the apartment. 

But before he did, he bumped into another person on the way, his breath suddenly escaping from his body for a quick moment. He caught himself, balancing on his legs before looking up at who had stopped him.

His eyes widened at the male, a smile growing on Neil's face, knowing well what this could mean. Minyard had brought him right to the goal, without so meaning to. This was what Andrew wanted him to find. The boys knew Riko would be listening in everywhere, had eyes in all rooms and all streets, that he'd know Neil would have gone home. 

Because the next thing he knew, Neil was face to face with Jean Moreau. The person who he had expected to see, the only person Neil had to engage with to sort this all out.

 

 

“Wow. A reunion at last.” A voice was heard behind both Andrew and Kevin. “So this is where you went? A shame, Kevin.”

Andrew turned around and Kevin gasped in horror as Riko Moriyama was smiling towards them.

“You can’t be here.” Kevin whispered.

“You think I didn’t know where you went?” Riko looked to Kevin like he was being serious. “Nobody can get past me. I am the King after all.”

Andrew sighed. He was tired and had no effort in dealing with two fuckers today. “Big narcissistic. Whatever, Riko, there is no point.” He told him. Kevin stepped back, putting Andrew's body in between him and Riko.

“Oh, you know what I would say," Riko smiled and looked to the roof's edge. "I'd say you should just kill yourself. It’s a lot less effort for me. Kevin was right, you did use a great spot. But now I am here to finish the job.” He walked closer to Andrew but his dark gaze was stuck onto Kevin. He pointed the taller man's way. “I have no use for him anymore, after everything he just told you, Kevin is as good as dead to me.” Then back to Andrew, directing his fingers to the edge, “Go on. For me. It would make things easier for everyone if you just jumped, Minyard.” He smirked. “Please.” He cooed.

Andrew’s glare grew furious. He grabbed Riko by the collar of his coat and spun him around so that his back was to the drop of the roof. Riko looked at him with shock as Andrew’s breathing became short. “How much do you think it would take me to stop from killing you here myself?”

Riko blinked. Then a smile gathered on his face once more. “You are just getting that now?”

Andrew loosened his grip just by a little, Riko's body tipping off the edge. The only restrain was Andrew's arms holding him off and the tips of his toes touching the edge of the roof. Riko looked almost triumph, no fear in his eyes while Andrew wished it would wash over. “Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive.” Riko’s smile faded almost immediately after the words were said. “Your friend will die if you don’t.”

Andrew eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Riko sighed. “Junior, of course.”

“Josten?” 

“Is that what you call him? Pathetic.”

“But you need him.” Andrew raised an eyebrow. All this? For nothing? Riko must have been more idiotic than he thought.

“I needed him.” Riko corrected. “But if it means I kill two birds with one stone, then I’m all for it. I’ll take back Kevin and take my precious time with him. I still have others to use.” Kevin flinched besides Andrew. At that moment, Andrew didn't know what it meant to have a man come in, holding Josten in a tight grip, but it surely didn't bode well with his emotions. Andrew stumbled back and Riko took this opportunity to walk farther away from the roof, away from Andrew, from certain death, and closer to the new arrivals. It took a few steps, but finally he had both hands on Josten's shoulders as he looked back to Andrew a distance away. “Well. Unless my people see you jump that is. I'm sure Nathaniel here would enjoy the show as much as I would.” Riko smiled, coming close to Josten, patting him against his cheek, as if trying to anger Andrew even further with unwanted touching. Josten then bit Riko's finger and the male snarled, backing away. Andrew hid a smile.

He then looked back to Josten, knowing well the younger male had a furious look on his face, especially after the new escort dropped him to his knees and pulled up a gun to his head.

Kevin walked slowly towards Josten, his feet staggering as he went. However, before he could do anything, reach any further to his childhood friend, Riko put a hand to Kevin’s chest, stopping him from moving. “Kevin, Kevin. Not your time, is it?” Andrew looked back to Riko who was staring right at him. “You see, you _can_ survive this. You can have me arrested, you can torture me, you can do anything you like with me. But nothing’s gonna prevent him from pulling that trigger on Nathaniel. I even have more, if that doesn't keep your interest enough. That Matthew, Renee, that bitchy Allison, Wymack, Danielle and perhaps even little Seth Gordon. Your only friends in the world will die unless-”

“-unless I kill myself, complete your story. I know, no need to repeat it.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Of course. That is the point of this.” Riko looked over the side and saw that someone had stopped at the benches near the bus stop below them, and several other people were in the vicinity as well. “Oh, you’ve got an audience now. Off you go. I told you how this ends.”

“You’d take Josten either way.” Andrew stepped forward. “It really doesn't do anything. If I die right now, you’d take him to Evermore, he wouldn’t be safe. If I killed you now, your people would shoot him.”

“Your death is the only thing that’s going to call off all the killers on your friends. I’m certainly not gonna do it. He’d be alive at Evermore, wouldn’t that be better than dead?”

“Anything is better than that place.” Josten snarled.

“Shut it, Nathaniel.”

“Make me.” Riko slapped Josten hard as Josten grunted with the blow. The man with the gun looked away momentarily. 

Andrew stepped closer to Riko. “Here’s the thing, Moriyama. I don’t like people touching my things.”

“Oh. So what are you going to do? Deduct me to death.”

Then, out of nowhere, Josten got up from his position and punched Riko hard in the face. With surprise and the strong blow, Riko stammered back, looking pissed at something he didn't expect Josten to have done. “Jean.” He gritted out through shut teeth, as if the male would do something about his dignity and pride.

The other man - Jean - well, he didn’t move. He just stared at Josten, then to Kevin. His expression pained and confused.

Andrew, taking this opportunity to help out his friend, threw something to Josten who caught it in an instant, impressing Andrew with the subtle skill of catching, and blade work.

With a swift motion, Josten grabbed Riko’s shirt and placed the knife up to his neck, leaning both of them backwards onto the roof top, Josten practically over top of the other male. “You really aren’t as smart as people make you out to be.” Josten told him, as Riko's body was leaning backwards to the ground in effort to escape unwanted death, however Josten was quite strong and kept Riko in place, to do what he wanted at will.

“I’ll kill them. Kill them all. I’m the only one who can stop them.” Riko snarled at him, planting that idea into Josten's head as if it would let the younger male off him. 

Josten laughed slightly. “Not when you haven't thought it through.” Riko stared at him blankly. “What? You think that by trying to get Andrew out of the picture, nobody else would be capable of figuring shit out? You think he’s the smartest one here because he solves everything he sees?” Josten frowned. “I spent years on the run, because of you and because of my father. I am not as dumb as I look. I spent the rest of my time with Andrew and I know the looks he makes when he's lying. When he told me Betsy was in trouble, I knew it wasn’t for real and he was trying to get me to find something on my own. I knew you were watching everything, and Jean was your guard dog so I thought that perhaps him and I could have a talk, considerably he was reasonable. And turns out, he still has the power to stop your people from shooting down our friends by simply saying it was under your orders.”

Riko smiled. “Your father would be proud.”

Josten smiled back. “And what about yours? Would he be proud with you failing miserably?” That hit Riko hard apparently. “He’s dying, isn’t he? That’s why you want to impress him now. You had all the years in your life to do so. Yet now that he’s going to be dead, you know well enough Ichirou is getting the outcomes instead.”

“And I _will_ get it.” Riko said.

“Yeah, sure. And it just so happens that I've already made a deal with him.” He looked to Andrew and dropped Riko to the floor, Riko tumbling down with anger. Josten straightened his back and called to Andrew, his face was fragile, a soft smile was plastered on. Hands outstretched, a knife in one, nothing in the other, all in wonder to how he was going to place his next words. He looked like he hoped for Andrew's consent. And whatever it was, Andrew would follow. “I called them off, Andrew. Called Kevin and Jean off Evermore. It's... It was the only thing I could do. They’ll be safer than they were before. Kevin will get a job at the Foxhole Court, Jean told me he was planning on it anyways. I'm just securing the contract... Concerning you and I... it will be tough, and it's something you aren't quite used to. But Ichirou needs some sort of payment. The money used from all of us will be given to him in pay. Which means we have to be working as well. Wymack always said he wouldn't mind, I just need your approval...” Andrew looked to him and nodded once, assuring Josten it was fine, that no matter what there was no other alternative where they all got out alive if it weren't for that deal. Josten had done wonders, he was a complete idiot, but he was smarter than Andrew sometimes thought. Josten smiled wide and looked down towards Riko once more. “You hear that, you worthless piece of shit?”

Riko's face paled and Josten then knew he got the information through to Riko, that Riko wouldn't be a problem anymore if his brother had hold of the situation. If he didn't forget that Josten would do anything to assure his safety, things would have gone differently. Riko was dumb enough to fall for it, that his plan was leading to his fall all along. So, Josten was done with Riko, probably for good, for the best and for a while. He stood up, grabbing the knife from the other end and walked over to hand it back to Andrew.

“No.” Andrew heard Riko whisper, to which then all attention was back onto him.

It all happened so quickly, Andrew didn't even have time to blink. At first it was a simple staring match, a silent game of who hated who more. Riko despising everything Josten did and Andrew there to protect the younger male. He was always there to protect Josten after all. Promises were promises. So the moment Riko took the gun from his pocket, Andrew knew it would happen. Knew he would do anything to simply end the life of the one who caused him the most problems. Neil Josten was problematic after all. But he was Andrew's problem, not Riko's. There wasn't a sign of remorse when Andrew found himself grabbing onto Riko's arm, looking through the Japanese ball of shit and not giving the slightest bit of empathy for what he did next. A snap and a scream were heard at once and Riko fell to the floor in agony.

Jean stumbled backwards, probably not believing everything that was shown to him, seeming like he was about to faint or vomit or both.

Josten blew in a breath of relief and laughed. He looked up to Andrew's eyes, then to Riko on the ground - screaming over his broken arm. Andrew held out his hand for his friend to get up. Josten sucked in a long breath, blew it out once more and grabbed onto Andrew's hand, hauling him up.

They were okay.

In the back, Kevin held onto Jean, making sure he didn’t actually fall over. While Andrew looked back to Josten who was breathing silently with his eyes closed.

They would be safe.

Josten opened up his eyes and smiled at Andrew once more.

And that was all that mattered.

 

 

Turned out Josten had a few secrets up his sleeves. He had called Ichirou to meet with him, after Jean found him at the apartment. He assured Andrew that Riko wouldn’t bother them anymore but Andrew didn’t know how true that was. Josten explained how all the assassins were gone from the premises by a few calls from his uncle. _The_ Uncle, it seemed. Apparently Josten had more connections than Andrew thought, and this Uncle played a grand role in it all.

Wymack got the news about Riko, and he made in a report, letting everyone know that Kevin would be secured at the Foxhole Court, under his protection and changed Kitty Riley's document into saying how Riko manipulated Kevin into doing what he did, and how her death was his fault. It was the least they could do to after what Kitty had been through, to commemorate her death even if Kevin claimed her to be a bitch.

Jean ended up going to America, to play Exy once more with a National Team, the team that was led by Jeremy Knox. Kevin was ecstatic about that, a little bit disappointed he didn't get to go himself.

Which all but left Andrew and Josten, who now had paid jobs at the Foxhole Court. Andrew wasn’t so pleased by that, but he did what he had to do in order to procure the deal made by Ichirou - to which he honestly did not sign up for. Wymack assured him that they would still be consulting detectives, and it would pretty much be the same ordeal just with payment and more truth within.

But in the end, Andrew was fine.

Josten was fine.

And this time, it wasn't a simple play on words, a phrase meant to be mean the opposite of what truly went on in the heads of the suffering. And it was true that things would change later on in life, that they weren't truly free from everything. There was still much to sort out, much to do. People to meet and people to stop. But they’d be there. There to solve each case they found interesting enough. It would always just be Andrew and Josten, and that, however, wouldn't change. The only difference was they had a broke man to take care of on top of it.

And after everything that happened, perhaps Andrew didn't completely hate Josten overall. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind getting to know him more and expand what they had.

Promises were promises, after all.

 

 

Neil opened the doors quickly to their apartment, breathing heavily when he came inside. He spotted Minyard on the kitchen table, playing around with one of his knives, seeming to be rather bored that there was nothing else interesting going on. No psychotic Japanese mafias, no case to solve and only a stuck up Kevin Day to deal with. Neil cleared his throat and tried to find his words. Minyard noticed him and raised an eyebrow.

“Jean got the assassins off our trail with the help of Stuart and his friends. It was difficult, and they did it.” Neil finally said. “But he wasn’t able to get all of them in time.”

Neil bit his lip.

“Gordon’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have 6 more cases to go!! We're halfway there, peeps. However, word count is getting off the roof and honestly, I'm not sure if I should split it up in a series or just keep on going until I end up with around 200k words??? Decisions, decisions. Anyways, see you all in the next update.


	7. Case 7: The Empty Hearse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 1 Season 3 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings; Very mild. No graphical bloody scene. Just boys being boys. Case deals with bombing, burning, and uh s’bout it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so shorter chapter here. Buuut trust me, every bit of this - well, it’s fucking worth it. It's my favourite chapter. We get more Twinyard bonding, because that’s one of the most important aspects of tfc, it gives me the good kind of heebie jeebies bc their development is all that matters to me (perhaps as much as Andreil does).
> 
> The chapter itself is mainly the insides of Andrew’s mind throughout a case. How he realises his life is changing little by little. Basically him being a fav. This chapter fucking touched me and I didn’t know that was possible. I actually cRiED writing this and I'm the author. Perhaps grammar is not the best, I’m still getting there. But plot wise???? And explaining what happened in the episode (which was difficult, because it mainly progressed into flashbacks and overvoices)????? BOI, IM WRECKED. Fuck, I’m now emotionally invested to write more.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy. I love you all for the support.
> 
> Special thanks to Aiden and Arianne again!!!

Andrew slouched on the leathery couch in Aaron's fancy as fuck apartment. A game of chess had been laid between the two, as Aaron sat on the other side of the glass table, having moved one of the kitchen chairs for more ease into the room. He waited a moment, figuring out every possible move he could do until he finally placed his king to another square. Andrew looked to where he had put the piece and wondered if Aaron wanted to be on death row because that move was just furiously bad. Especially with the king. Especially after taking 30 minutes to decide on that specific move itself. Andrew didn't understand why they of all people had to be related.

Katelyn was there seconds ago, giving them homemade cookies and tea, but Andrew didn’t entirely care for her. She was someone Aaron chose over himself and had found more happiness together than he did with his brother in his lifetime. It made sense, however, considering how much Aaron seemed to have regretted the deal a week after it was made.

It was just a fulfilled promise after all.

Especially the one they were trying to make at the moment.

Andrew was only at Aaron's place for one reason - because Josten gave up being the messenger boy and made him actually talk to his brother. It was quite awkward at first. Still is, actually.

Then there was the long term problem in the Foxhole Court - the death of one of their workmates. It had been weeks, but the fact that Riko was able to do commit murder among one of them, instead of the simple threats and the easy getaways, it took a hard turn for the Foxhole Court. Andrew didn't care for the asshole, but knowing why it happened was dangerous. Even if Riko was gone.

Aaron took a sip of his tea as he waited for Andrew’s move. “There’s an underground terrorist network active in London and a massive attack is imminent.” He said, starting up another conversation that was destined to be gone in seconds. The reason why they took up the game of chess, having nothing to talk about expect for work.

“Interesting.” Andrew put up his feet on the coffee table besides the game. Aaron frowned at his brother, either because Andrew was the reason why it was hard for them to keep up a conversation, or because he was being immature in his actions.

“Cookies, anyone?” Katelyn called from the kitchen, her head peeking from the other room. “Freshly baked!”

“We’re good, thank you.” Aaron told her, having not finished the first batch. 

“I made hundreds, though! They have to be eaten eventually.” She looked to Aaron and he sighed, letting her add onto the first batch. Andrew was pretty much the only one eating them anyways, and he was pleased for there to be more. 

It was clear as day that Katelyn was stressed, it seemed. She often baked when she was stressed, to which Andrew was surprised he knew. Considering the lack of conversations he has had with her. 

Finally, she smiled at the twins, and went back to the kitchen.

“I need you to give this matter your full attention, Andrew.” Aaron told him.

“Yeah, I’ll make my move, don’t get all worked out about it.” Andrew took Aaron’s queen in response. “There, happy? You're losing.”

“Not the bloody game. The attacks, a case you should get into.”

“What do you think of this shirt?” Andrew asked, gesturing to his top. It was the same as all his other ones, black and simple. “Just got it.” He raised an eyebrow.

Aaron’s lip twitched. “Andrew.” He warned.

“Don’t worry. I will find your underground terror cell, Aaron.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “You know,” Andrew leaned in. “London; It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Yet the question you should ask yourself, is that if it's not a question of _who_ , is it a question of _who knows_?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'll give you an example. a man cancels his papers, you may not think of it as important. But in any situation, any case, it could be. You'd need to know those small details to fulfill the idea of simply knowing.” Andrew explained. “If there are certain people that start to move, I’ll know something’s up – like rats deserting a sinking ship. To which... has raised my point, because I'd have known everyone's habits, their routine, what they did that morning. Everything.” Andrew leaned back again, putting his point out there for Aaron to try and understand his simple mind. He mentally laughed at how he worded it. Rats. They were all rats.

Andrew kept his eyes on Aaron, all the while his brother made his next move. “All very interesting, Andrew, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical.” Aaron had taken his horse. A pity, he liked that horse. It had been the only one he hadn't moved in a while. So Andrew took two of his pawns in retaliation.

“Boring. Your move.”

“We have solid information. An attack is coming.” He was able to snatch a useless piece from Andrew's side.

Andrew glanced down towards the table between them and scoffed. “Solid information.” He repeated, as he made a move, grabbing a lowly piece for a plan that would escelate the match further. “A secret terrorist organisation’s planning an attack – that’s what secret terrorist organisations do, isn’t it? It’s their version of golf.”

“An agent gave his life to tell us that.”

Andrew shrugged. “Oh, well, perhaps he shouldn’t have done it. He was obviously just trying to show off.” Aaron appeared to hold back a sigh.

“None of these markers of yours are behaving in any way suspiciously?” He glanced down at the board for a brief moment. “Your move.” Aaron said.

Andrew huffed. “No, _Aaron_ , but you have to trust me. I’ll find the answer. It’ll be in an odd phrase in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts add.” Katelyn seemed to have left the buidling, as there was no more noise in the kitchen. The only sound was the pieces of chess clicking together as they each did their move.

Aaron glanced down briefly before raising his eyes to Andrew’s again. “I’ve given the Prime Minister my personal assurance you’re on the case.”

“I _am_ on the case. We’re both on the case. Look at us right now.” Looking smug, Andrew sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. He had taken the king.

“Don’t be smart. It’s just a game.”

“That takes me back to high school.” Andrew said. “Don’t be smart, Andrew. I’m the smart one.” He mimicked Aaron’s high pitched squealing from when he was a child.

Aaron narrowed his eyes at him. “I _am_ the smart one.” Funny how he didn't comment on the voice.

“You know, in times like that, I used to think I was an idiot.” Andrew admitted.

“Both of us thought you were an idiot, Andrew. We had nothing else to go on until we met other children with other families.”

“Oh, yes. That was a mistake.”

“Honestly. What were they thinking?”

“Probably something about trying to make friends.”

“Friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.”

Andrew looked at him closely. “And you don’t?” He referred to the deal they broke with Katelyn, but of course, Aaron knew that from the way he narrowed his eyes.

“If you seem slow to me, Andrew, can you imagine what real people are like? I’m living in a world of goldfish.” Aaron steepled his fingers in front of him and looked at his brother.

“Yes, but I’ve been aware of that for a couple years now.”

“So?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a more... expendable goldfish.” He grinned.

Aaron frowned. “She isn’t a goldfish. Will you ever stop talking about what happened in college?”

Andrew scoffed. “Never.”

“Can’t we talk about anything else?”

A sigh. “Rest assured, Aaron – whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre.”

“Speaking of which-” Aaron tilted his head to the table which had a pack of cards in the middle, and each of the boys had seven in hand. “Why are we even playing games?” 

“Well, London’s terror alert has been raised to Critical.” Andrew slammed down a four to which Aaron only had a three. Andrew smirked. “I’m just passing the time, it brings out the conversation in us.”

“You call this passing time? Took us two minutes to complete the chess game.” He put down a queen, thinking he won, but Andrew put down two kings. Fucking loser.

“True.” Andrew said, then brought his hands to rest under his chin, held up by his elbows on the table. “But, it took me half the time to complete this.” Aaron then realised Andrew had no more cards left. “Let’s do deductions next. I like to watch you fail at doing what I do. Not that you haven't lost five times already.” Andrew took a woolen hat from the back of the couch and flopped it down in the centre of the table. “Client left this while I was out. What do you reckon?”

Aaron looked to it. “Too much hassle. It’s my cheat day, my mind is tired.”

Andrew scoffed. “Oh, do go on. It’s been ages.”

“We have literally never done this.” But either way, Aaron brought the hat to his nose and looked to Andrew. “But against you, I'd win hands down.”

“Which is why you can’t resist a good deduction when you see one, must run in the family.” Andrew leaned closer to see if Aaron would guess what happened to the client's life by gazing upon a simple everyday item worn by them.

“I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-traveled anxious sentimental unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis-” He stopped when he saw Andrew’s grin. “Damn.” He threw the hat back to Andrew.

"Isolated, too, don’t you think?”

“Why would he be isolated?”

“He?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Obviously.”

“Why? Size of the hat?”

“Don’t be silly. Some women have large heads too.” Aaron huffed. Andrew rolled his eyes at Aaron.  “No – he’s recently had his hair cut. You can see the little hairs adhering to the perspiration stains on the inside.”

Andrew looked down at the hat. “Some women have short hair, too.” He backfired.

“Balance of probability.”

“Not that you’ve ever spoken to a woman with short hair – or, you know, a woman.”

“I’m married to Katelyn.”

“Doesn’t count.”

Aaron ignored him. “Stains show he’s out of condition, and he’s sentimental because the hat has been repaired three, maybe four times.”

“Five times.” Andrew corrected. He threw the hat back to Aaron. “Very neatly. The cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it, but it’s more than that. One, perhaps two, patches would indicate sentimentality, but five? Five’s excessive behaviour. Obsessive compulsive.”

“Hardly. Your client left it behind. What sort of an obsessive compulsive would do that?” He threw the hat back to Andrew, who grabbed it with an exasperated grimace. “The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so he’s worn it abroad – in Peru.”

“Peru?”

“This is a chullo – the classic headgear of the Andes. It’s made of alpaca.”

Andrew smirked. “No.”

“No?”

“Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive if you know what you’re looking for. I’ve read a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibres.” Andrew paused for a moment, then turned back to his brother. “You said he was anxious.”

“The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows he’s a man of a nervous disposition but-”

“-but also a creature of habit because he hasn’t chewed the bobble on the right.” Andrew said instead.

“Precisely.”

Andrew lifted the hat and sniffed it before lowering it again, grimacing. “Brief sniff of the offending bobble tells us everything we need to know about the state of his breath.”

“Elementary.” Aaron told him.

“But you’ve missed his isolation.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Plain as day.”

“Where?”

“There for all to see.”

“Tell me.”

“Plain as the tip on your-”

“Just fucking tell me, Andrew!”

“Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isn’t in the habit of hanging around other people, is he?” Andrew finally told him, trying to get through to his brother's anger. Perhaps the games itself did interest him somewhat in easy enough mindgames, but whining his brother up was the best part of it all.

“Not at all. Maybe he just doesn’t mind being different. He doesn’t necessarily have to be isolated.” Aaron huffed.

“Exactly.” Andrew pointed out. He looked down at the hat, Aaron blinked several times.

“What?”

Andrew looked back to Aaron. “He’s different – so what? Why would he mind? You’re quite right.” He lifted the hat and perched it on the top of his brother's head, then looked pointedly at the other. “Why would anyone mind?”

Aaron opened his mouth but seemed to struggle to speak for a moment, throwing the hat off as he if didn't want it, and gave it back to Andrew. “I’m not lonely, Andrew. I have Kate.”

Andrew tilted his head and looked closely at him. “How would you know?”

Turning away, Andrew heard the door open and keys jingle. He was greeted with a surprised Katelyn. “Andrew, you’re still here. Up for more cookies, offer still stands.” She smiled.

“Just leaving.” He said and stood up from the couch, saluting his brother in his leave as he exited Aaron’s house.

Back to work, it seemed.

 

 

A couple days earlier form the game, Andrew was called in by Wymack to investigate a scene.

Wymack tore down the police tape sealing a door inside a building when they came to the investigation. “This one’s got us all baffled.” He told Andrew.

Andrew hummed. “I don’t doubt it.”

Wymack opened the door and led Andrew down the stairs into the basement. Josten had a quick meeting today with Boyd and Wilds over weddings plans and in the meantime, they had sorted out Gordon’s funeral for a few that would attend. Reynolds was a wreck, Renee had comforted her throughout it. Everyone mourned for a couple weeks, but after a while they chose to consider his death as a token of their strength and ability to survive, and perhaps a reason to continue on.

And the wedding was only weeks away after all.

So now it was just Andrew investigating for now, due to Josten being dragged along to everything. He almost laughed at how he almost lost the habit of doing things alone. He was always used to it, before Josten came along. So why did it feel so strange doing the deductions by himself? Perhaps a reason why he continued to speak to his brother was because of this, however he wouldn't admit that to himself, nor would he ever admit it at all. It had always just been Andrew Minyard, the consulting detective that kept to himself. He frowned at how quickly things had changed, and how much he hated himself for wanting it to stay.

At the foot of the stairs, a large hole had been knocked through the brickwork of one wall. They went through the hole and Wymack switched on the mobile lighting which had been set up in the room. As he switched on more lights, a white-painted wooden table was at the far end of the room and seated on a chair behind it was a skeleton dressed in an old-fashioned suit. 

There was a carafe and an empty glass on the table, and what looked to be a writing set in front of it. The corpse was holding a syringe in one skeletal hand.

Frowning, Andrew was already focusing on the scene before him, examining the corpse in minute detail. Wymack stood nearby, watching him unravel the scene. Andrew smelled something from the body. Suspected to be pine, spruce, cedar or new mothballs. Perhaps, carbon particulate. But... not close enough.

No, it was indeed a fire damage.

Andrew got out his phone and held it up high to try and get a signal. Couple moments later, he carefully used tweezers to lift the lapel of the skeleton’s jacket. Wymack still stood some distance away, waiting for anything to happen. Cement dust drifted down from the ceiling as a distant rumbling could be heard.

“Trains.” Andrew said. He squatted down, studying the corpse. He started to look closely at the bones in his neck. "Male, forty to fifty.”

He took out his magnifier to look more closely at the hand holding the syringe while Wymack continued to stare down the skeleton. “Doesn’t make sense.” He said.

“What doesn’t?” Andrew asked, gently blowing away the dust around the hand.

“This skeleton. It can’t be any more than-”

“Six months old.” Andrew concluded for him.

He had found a hidden compartment in the side of the table and he opened it, sliding out a book from inside. He blew the dust from the cover, giving it a disinterested glance and showed it to Wymack. Scrawled across the cover were the words:  _How I Did It, By Jack the Ripper_.

Andrew flamboyantly dropped the book onto the table. “How I Did It, by Jack the Ripper?” Wymack asked.

Andrew hummed.

“That’s impossible.”

“Welcome to my world.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

Wymack grinned with delight as Andrew leaned down to the table. In a situation like so, Josten would call him a smart ass. Andrew didn’t know why he thought about what Josten would say. Andrew grimaced and shook the thought away.

“I won’t insult your intelligence by explaining it to you.” Andrew told Wymack.

“No – insult away.” Wymack told him. Andrew rolled his eyes and headed to the door but stopped. Josten would tell him to explain, even if he half knew it himself. Damn ,Josten. He was just away for a couple days, volunteering with the wedding. It was not like he was gone for years.

Appearing confused and disoriented by the internal commentary, Andrew turned back to Wymack. “The corpse,” He tried to make out. “The corpse is six months old, it’s dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit from a museum. It’s been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south east judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire damage sale,” He showed Wymack his phone screen that displayed the sale. “A week ago.”

“So the whole thing was a fake?”

“Yeah.” Andrew turned and started to head out the room.

Wymack almost intervened, but hummed instead. “Looked so promising.”

“Facile.” Andrew recalled Josten saying that once.

“Why would someone go to all that trouble?”

“Why indeed.” He sighed and finally walked out of the building.

 

 

Andrew apparently go so bored, he actually sent someone over to help find a new case.

The reason why, was because he didn't so have an asshole by his side to comment everything under his breath and help Andrew through cases thenselves. Gathering Josten was away; Andrew had to find someone else to occupy the 'solving people's idiot problems' spot. What a fun thing he was missing out.

And since Wilds, Boyd and Josten were away doing loads of shit Andrew didn’t want to do, let alone care about, and Reynolds would accompany them after she was done her mourning - well, all of them were out of the story for now. Walker was by Reynold’s side, so she was no use either. Aaron - well Andrew didn’t want Aaron. Wymack, Bee and Abby? Not a chance. And Gordon, well he’s fucking dead. So that left only one person for Andrew to invite.

Which was how he was in his living room with Kevin fucking Day.

Wymack's new “assistant” to which was regularly assigned to Andrew.

Assistant his motherfucking ass.

Andrew glared at Day on the couch as he shuffled from side to side in the room. They waited for people to come in and rant to them about whether or not their case was good, bad, or easy enough to solve within seconds.

Sooner or later, a young man answered the door and Andrew immediately hopped off the couch and stared him down.

Uneventfully, it was just the man from before. The one with the woolen hat to which Andrew forgot his name.

“Oh. Thanks for hanging on to it.” The man said as he reminded Andrew his hat was within the building, forgetting it the last time he was here.

“Whatever.” He threw the hat the man’s way once grabbing it from the coat rack, and went back inside the flat.

“So, what’s this all about, Mr. Shilcott?” Day asked, greeting the male in, knowing well all of Andrew's cases. Considering he was the assistant, Day had the access to what Andrew did and when. Only exception was, Andrew didn't care for a schedule and did most things on his own terms. So Day was constantly in panic on Andrew's new due-date jobs. The ones to which now he actually had to work for, and bring into Wymack at a specific time. Had to fill out reports on what he did and actually attend the meetings. It was a fucking nightmare. At least Day remembered names, he good for something at least.

Andrew went back to his couch and slumped down, while Kevin sat on the other end, replacing Josten's role in the interviewing. Mr. Shilcott stood and waved his hands around as if he was trying to find his words, then sat back down on the client chair. “See, my girlfriend’s a big fan of yours.”

Andrew chuckled sarcastically. “Girlfriend?” He looked round indignantly, and Day threw Andrew a look. “I’m not sorry.” He told him.

“Well. See. I like trains.” Another chuckle from Andrew. “I work on the Tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security footage after it’s been cleared.” He shuffled through his duffel bag, and opened his laptop that he had brought with him. “I was just scrolling through and,” He paused. “I found something a bit bizarre.”

He typed a few words onto his laptop and Andrew threw a mimicking surprised face at Kevin to enthuse on the words 'bizarre', who the latter did indeed scowl from. Oh, how Andrew missed riling people up.

Train Man pulled up the relevant footage and turned the laptop round so the boys could see what was happening on screen. It showed the platform of a Tube station, a train was stationed and its doors were open. There was only one man on the platform. A business man carrying a briefcase.

“Now, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster station, and this man gets into the last car.”

“Car?"

“They’re cars, not carriages. It’s a legacy of the early American involvement in the Tube system.” Train Man stated, smiling proud from knowing that fact. Kevin turned and threw a look to Andrew who was grinning.

“Wow. I never would have thought you'd liked trains so much.” Andrew nodded, faking an impressed smile. Kevin huffed out an annoyed sigh.

“And the next stop.” Train Man said. He showed them the next footage. “St. James’s Park station.” The footage showed the doors of the last car opening – and nobody got out. Suddenly Andrew perked up. “I thought you’d like it.” Train Man smiled. “He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger, and the car is empty at St. James’s Park station. The next station over. Explain that, Mr. Minyard.”

“Couldn’t he have just jumped off?” Kevin asked.

Andrew shook his head disappointingly towards Kevin who simply watched Andrew run a hand down in face, confused on why he was disappointed.

“There’s a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But there’s something else. The driver of that train hasn’t been to work since. According to his roommate, he’s on holiday. Came in for some money.” Train Man frowned.

Andrew looked to Kevin. “Bought off?”

Kevin was startled by his questions and shrugged. Andrew looked to him disapprovingly. He was fuck all but helpful, not having answered the question which Josten would often pursue. Kevin, ignoring Andrew, turned back to Train Man. “So if the driver of the train was in on it, then the passenger did get off.”

“There’s nowhere he could go. It’s a straight run on the District Line between the two stations. There’s no side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels – nothing on any map. Nothing. The train never stops, and the man vanishes. Good, isn’t it?”

Andrew closed his eyes, replaying the footage in his mind. “I know that face.” He mumbled. Briefly the face of the disappearing man appeared in his head but he couldn’t quite place the distorted figure.

'“The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took ten minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St. James’s Park.” He looked to Kevin. “So I’m going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps.”

“Right.” Kevin said. He might enjoy this, being his first assignment from Andrew and all. He was a junkie. But yet, that was Josten’s title. And Andrew grimaced from thinking of it. It always turned back to Josten, no matter if he was alone, no matter if he was on a case, with someone else, anything. It always went back to the other male. Always. But why?

“Fancy some food?” He asked Kevin to which he wanted to just keep his mind of something.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.” Andrew looked at Kevin like he didn’t understand what food meant. It was food, of course it was okay. “I know a great doughnut shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives me extra portions.”

“Did you get him off a murder charge?” Kevin asked, intrigued by who the owner could be. Andrew furrowed his eyebrows.

“No – I helped him put up some shelves.”

A confused Kevin walked out of the building with Andrew ahead, quietly mumbling on why he chose doughnuts out of everything.

They walked over to the shop, close to midnight as they gave Andrew what he wanted plus some bonus bits. He was happy with the food, not with Kevin who refused to eat any. Tough shit, it was his dinner he was missing out on. As they walked back home, Andrew's mind focused solely on the food that they ate, the sugar which rushed in his blood. But something was still missing, like the last piece to a puzzle to which Andrew didn’t know about, nor could find. He felt enervated somehow.  
  
Once rested inside, Kevin went back to his apartment shared with Abby and Wymack, renting it out with help. It was closer to the Foxhole than it was anywhere else. He was still cautious about what he did, where he went, how he slept and everything but he was doing better. Even with Riko gone. The security on the apartment were heavy and good for him.

Alone on his coach, waiting for Josten to come back home, Andrew heard the bell ring at the door. Nobody visited his place at night unless it was called for. No clients would come this late. Josten had a key so it couldn't possibly have been him.

Andrew quickly paced down the stairs and was greeted by Boyd who stared at Andrew with fear. He had a phone in hand and looked like he almost ran a mile.

“Neil's not home is he?” Boyd asked him.

“No, he was supposed to be with you.” Andrew raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Fuck.” Boyd put his hands to his head.

“Boyd.” Andrew warned. “Tell me what happened.”

His hands shook to get his phone on, bringing it to his latest texts. “Josten was done his part for the wedding, so he took the train back here. But then I got this message. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it’s not. It’s a skip-code.”

Andrew looked at him closely, then turned his attention to his phone. All it said was;

_Save souls now! Neil or Nathaniel Josten? Saint or Sinner? James or John? The more is Less?_

“First word, then every third.” Andrew recognised the code, then his eyes widened. “Save Neil Josten.” He read the first three words, then the next. “We have to leave, now.”

He raced to put on his coat and ran out the building with Boyd. “Where are we going?” Boyd asked trailing behind him.

“St. James the Less. It’s a church. Twenty minutes by car.” He paced down the streets.

“Don’t you have a car?” Boyd asked as they ran.

“In the parking lot, keys, corners, traffic. It’s too slow.” He snarled. “Fucking too slow.” Boyd almost couldn’t keep up with the smaller male as he continued to mutter incomprehensible words. 

They ran across the streets, which weren't as busy as daylight but enough cars to make them cautious on what they did.

Andrew stopped mid road and waited for one to come.

“Andrew, what are we waiting for?” Boyd asked, suddenly worried why they were in the middle of the streets as he stopped to take a breath.

Andrew turned towards a single oncoming headlight. He tried to stop the approaching motorcycle and almost crashed in front of it, as the driver slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt in time before it hit him.

And that was when Andrew realised that he could drive a motorcycle.

Well, perhaps he didn't but they had no other option.  
  
Shortly afterwards Andrew and Boyd raced through the streets on the bike. In Andrew’s mind, he was calculating how long it would take to get to St James the Less Church. Currently the journey would take ten minutes. Boyd’s phone sounded a text alert as he checked it. “Says, _Getting warmer Mr. Minyard. You have about ten minutes._ ” Andrew swore under his breath as they waited for the lights to go green.

“What does it mean? What are they going to do to him?” Boyd asked from behind him.

“I don’t know.” Andrew whispered.

On the motorcycle, Boyd held his phone over Andrew’s shoulder so that he could see the latest message; _8 minutes and counting_.

Andrew turned his attention back to the road and accelerated, but shortly afterwards they approached a roadblock. The road ahead was cordoned off with police tape, and two police officers were explaining the situation, stopping cars from passing.

Andrew slammed on the brakes. “Fuck.” He muttered.

He looked to his left and rapidly worked out an alternative route. The original could last 8 minutes, perhaps he could find one in 5. Andrew turned the bike and headed up onto the pavement and into a walkway between two buildings. On the other side of the buildings, the path descended down a long flight of steps but Andrew headed straight down and turned onto the road at the bottom, racing onwards.

Boyd showed him the next message: _Better hurry, things are getting hot in here_.  

Andrew didn't know what it could have meant. He only dreaded the worst and went above speed limit in order to save his friend. The motorcycle charged on through the underpass. Two minutes left, only two. Andrew forced the bike up a steep flight of steps and out onto the street again.

One minute.

They were so close.

Finally driving along beside the fence surrounding the field, Andrew could see what was building up in the park.

Close. So close. They were so close.

Smiling, a man tossed a petrol-soaked wood into the wood placed in the middle of the grassy area, celebrating something Andrew didn't know in front of the St. James the Less. All Andrew knew was that they were making a bonfire, one to which could have been trouble for Josten. Andrew’s head whipped around as he looked to the fire.

“Oh my god.” Boyd croaked out, realising what this could have meant.

A girl screamed, and pointed to the fire. The others looked within it while the man ran to hold his daughter.

Andrew’s eyes widened and he crashed off the motorcycle, throwing the helmet away and ignoring everything as he ran. Heading quickly towards the fire, shoving people out of his way, not caring who got hurt. “Neil.” he called out. Andrew crouched down, peering through the flames and trying to see where Josten was. He threw wood aside, calling out his name again and again. He plunged his arms into the inferno, throwing pieces of the bonfire aside and created a path into it.

Then he felt skin.

He grabbed Josten and hauled him out, pulling him to safety. Josten lied there, looking dazed and hurt, bleeding and ashy from the fire embers. Andrew loomed over him. Boyd was there, almost in tears at seeing his friend barely awake and in a near-death experience.

Andrew sighed out a breath of relief as the bonfire lit up the dark night. Cursing to himself for letting out too much anger from this, and not being careful enough that it almost led Josten to death.

 

 

Andrew sat in his armchair with his eyes closed, sighing quietly and occasionally drumming his fingers on the arms of the chair. A grey haired couple were sitting on the sofa and the woman had been talking for so long Andrew was about to lose it. 

He honestly kind of zoned out a bit.

“-which wasn’t the way I’d put it at all. Silly woman. Anyway, it was then that I first noticed it was missing. I said, _Have you checked down the back of the sofa?_  He's always losing things down the back of the sofa, aren’t you, dear?”

“Afraid so.” The man sighed.

Andrew scrunched up his face up, then tilted his head forward a little, almost falling asleep by the droning voice everytime this woman spoke. He glared towards his room, frowning. “Keys, small change, sweeties. Especially his glasses.” She smiled.

“Glasses.” The man agreed. 

“Blooming things. I said, _Why don’t you get a chain – wear them round your neck?_  And he says, _What – like Larry Grayson?_ ” She snorted when she laughed.

“So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?” Andrew sighed as he got up, bored. The woman leaned to the side to get out of his way, and the man stared up at him as he started idly flicking through the paperwork stuck to the wall.

“Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to see, St Paul’s, the Tower. But they weren’t letting anyone into Parliament.”

Andrew frowned and looked down at her, as she crossed her legs proudly on the chair. “Some big debate going on.” He told her.

He heard the distinctive noise of his room door opening and saw Josten shuffle into the room, looking sleepy but better than before. He was awake at least - alive. Josten rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands to get the crusts out, then his eyes landed on the couple and Andrew. He stammered back, heading back towards the room. Muttering a, “Sorry – you’re busy.”

“No. They were just leaving.” Andrew said, wanting Josten to stay in the room instead of his bed. He may not be opposed to Josten sleeping in his bed, but he had been taken keen to the sofa for the past few days in order for the younger male to sleep better on something that wasn't the couch. 

“Oh, were we?” The woman asked.

“Yes.” Andrew glared at them. “Go. Bye.”

“Yeah, well, we’re here for a few weeks, remember.”

“Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out.” He led the couple towards the door. He tried to close it behind them but the woman turned and stuck her heavy shoe into the doorway to stop the door from shutting. Andrew tried to push it closed but the woman insisted. “I can’t tell you how glad we are, Andrew. All that time people thinking the worst of you.” Andrew glanced round at Josten, who grinned. “We’re just so pleased it’s all over.”

Grimacing, Andrew tried to slam the door on her foot to make her remove it. She didn’t budge. “Call us more often, won’t you? Especially for the days to come.” The older man said. “Promise me you’ll look out for him.” Andrew glanced round towards Josten who was looking elsewhere this time, and Andrew didn't look away.

“Promise.” He said quietly.

Smiling, she tried to pat his shoulder.

“Of for fucks-” Andrew shoved the door closed and let out a deep sigh before turning to Josten.

The latter looked to him with a smug smile. “Clients?” He asked.

“Boyd’s parents.”

“Boyd’s parents?”

“In town for a few weeks. For the wedding.” He said.

Josten looked started. “Why did they come to you?”

“They treat me like their son because I’m Boyd’s friend. They owe me from dealing with his drug habit. And they did bail out my brother,.” Andrew frowned. “Anyways. How are you feeling?”

Josten smiled. “Not bad. Bit, er, smoked.”

“Right.” Josten then looked to him seriously, knowing well enough something was on Andrew's mind. Andrew hated Josten for it.

“Last night – who did that?” Josten then asked.

“I don’t know. There may or may not be a terrorist attack but I have no clue if it’s connected. But I can’t see the pattern. It’s too nebulous.” He slumped on the ground on the carpeted living room, files in hand. “Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? That’s what’s strange.”

“Gave his life?”

“According to Aaron.” Josten looked at him wide-eyed, Andrew rolled his own.

“Not the point. There’s an underground network planning an attack on London – that’s all we know.”

Josten sat down next to him, Andrew passed him some files. “These are my rats, Josten.”

“Your fucking what nows?”

“My markers. Agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something’s up. Five of them are behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth-” He pointed to a photograph of a man who got into the disappearing Tube car. Train Man’s delight of a problem.

“Do I know him?” Josten sighed.

“Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the establishment.” Josten looked at him sternly, raising an eyebrow. “He’s been working for North Korea since 1996.”

“Oh.” Josten said.

“He’s the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And he’s just done something very suspicious indeed.”  
  
Later, after both boys had gone through many files for the last hour or so. Andrew was preparing up the Tube Man’s footage of the mysterious Tube Train Disappearance, just as Josten had come back from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. They settled themselves back into place, displayed on the ground, files everywhere. Andrew went back to the footage and replayed it.

“Yeah, that’s,” Josten tilted his head as he looked to the disappearing dude, seeing it for the first time. “Odd. There’s nowhere he could have got off?”

“Not according to the maps.” Josten hummed. “There’s something – something I’m missing, something staring me in the face.” Andrew turned to the files as his phone beeped.

“Any idea who they are – this underground network?” Josten sipped his cup. Andrew looked at a sequence of photos taken of Lord Moran walking along a road next to the Houses of Parliament, seeming that he had just come up from Westminster Tube station. “Intelligence must have a list of the most obvious ones.”

“Our rat’s just come out of his den.”

“Al-Qaeda, the IRA have been getting restless again – maybe they’re gonna make an appearance.” Andrew hummed this time. “A shame. International flights and trains were my go-to. Terrorist attacks would of made my life on the run much harder.”

“Yes.” Andrew muttered and grinned.

“What?”

Andrew stood up. “Genius.”

“What are you talking about? I was joking.”

“Not you. Aaron’s intelligence – it’s not nebulous at all. It’s specific.”

Josten sighed. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not an underground network, Josten. It’s an Underground Network.”

“Did you capatilize that or something? Because if not I’m scared for what I missed while I was away.”

“Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you can’t see it even when it’s staring you in the face.” He leaned over Josten’s shoulder to replay the Tube footage of the Lord Moran getting into the train. “Look – seven carriages leave Westminster.” He switched to the next footage. “But only six carriages arrive at St James’s Park.”

Josten narrowed his eyes. “That’s impossible.”

“Moran didn’t disappear – the entire Tube compartment did. The driver must have diverted the train and then detached the last carriage.”

“Detached it where, exactly? You said there was nothing between those stations.”

“Not on the maps, but once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth.” He pointed to the screen. “That carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere.”

“But why, though? Why detach it in the first place?”

“It vanishes between St James’s Park and Westminster. Lord Moran vanishes. You’re kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par-” Andrew paused, turning to Neil. “What’s the date, Josten – today’s date?”

“November the - fuck.” Josten groaned.

Andrew looked at the files in hand and stood up. “Lord Moran – he’s a peer of the realm. Normally he’d sit in the House. Tonight there’s an all-night sitting to vote on the new anti-terrorism bill.” Andrew smiled in thought. “But he won’t be there. Not tonight.” He turned to look down at Josten. “Not the fifth of November.”

“Remember, remember.” Josten quotted.

“Gunpowder treason and plot.” Andrew added.

They both smiled at each other, and then spent the next hour or so finding as much information as they could on the 5th of November 1605, the Gunpowder Plot.

 

 

Train Man was sitting in his living room and wearing his bobble hat on the camera screen of Andrew's computer, skyping the two boys over the newest edition of information. Josten was confused as to what the mechanism was but Andrew didn’t have time to explain. They were still scattered on the ground as they tried to find more information on the missing cart, on the Guy Fawkes Night and anything to do with such date. “There’s nothing down there, Mr. Minyard, I told you. No sidings, no ghost stations.” Train Man said.

“There has to be. Check again.” Andrew frowned. Train Man leaned off-screen.

Josten looked to Andrew with a frown. “Look – this whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff. Charing Cross is made up of bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand-”

Andrew cut him off there. “No, it’s none of those. We’ve accounted for those.” He looked to an old map Kevin brought him earlier in the day. “St Margaret’s Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street.”

“Wait. Hang on, hang on. Sumatra Road. You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr. Minyard.” Train Man put his face right up close to the camera. “There is something. I knew it rang a bell.” He looked through his stuff. “There was a station down there.”

“Why isn’t it on the maps?” Josten asked, eyeing the train track in the background of Train Man's bedroom, Andrew stifled a laugh.

“Because it was closed before it ever opened.” Train Man shrugged, thinking that was the answer. Andrew didn't need guesses, he needed evidence and clear facts. “They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface.”

Straightening up, Andrew pointed to the appropriate spot on the map. “It’s right underneath the Palace of Westminster.”

“And so what’s down there? A bomb?” Andrew walked to grab his coat, his looked showing Josten what he needed to know. “Fuck.” Josten groaned again.

 

 

Andrew and Josten walked briskly along the road near the Houses of Parliament and headed to the stairs leading down into Westminster station. They walked across the concourse, past the fangirls, through the ticket barriers and along the corridors.

“So it’s a bomb, then? A Tube carriage is carrying a bomb.” Josten sighed.

“Must be.”

“Right.”

Stopping at a locked maintenance entrance, Andrew reached into his coat, took out a crowbar and started to force the gate open. It may be illegal, but did he care? Not really. Honestly what was worse? A bomb or trespassing?

The gate opened and the boys went inside. Andrew pulling the gate closed behind them, taking out flashlights and tossing one to Josten. They started to walk down into the maintenance tunnels. A couple of paces behind Josten, Andrew checked his phone which didn't have any service. Putting his phone away, he caught up with his friend once more. They continued onwards for a long time, walking along narrow tunnels and walkways and climbing down steep metal ladders.

Finally the boys walked onto the platform of Sumatra Road station. Andrew shined his torch along the length of the track but there was no sign of a train.

“There’s nowhere else it could be.” He said.

He turned to face the track and brought his hands up to the wall and tapped his fingers in thought.

What would happen if he was in the carriage? What would he have witnessed? His mind drifted to explanations. He looked up and realised there were many different types of vents on the ceiling, then back to the unused tracks. He looked towards Josten and back to the pipes on the side of the vents, heated gas shimmered as it was forced through the air outside.

Within thought, if his theory was correct, Andrew started to walk towards the end of the platform, and leaped onto the tracks itself.

Josten chased after him, peering over the rails to see anything yet it was just void and darkness. “Wait. Isn’t the train still live?” He asked.

Setting off along the tracks, Andrew scoffed. “Perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails.”

“Of course, yeah, avoid the rails.” Josten rolled his eyes and jumped down onto the tracks with him. They didn’t have to walk far before the missing carriage was revealed part way round a gentle bend. “Well look at that.” Josten huffed.

They continued on, Andrew looking up, and seeing the large open vent above the carriage. He grinned at how easy his mind worked. “Neil.” He said.

Josten turned to face him and looked at the vent he was gesturing. They both shined their torches upwards, realising that there were several small explosives attacked to the sides of the vents. “Demolition charges.” Josten stated.

They continued towards the carriage, Andrew ducking down and shining his light underneath and around it as they approached. Josten blew out a long breath as they got closer. Josten squatted down to check the underside while Andrew looked along the side. He opened the door to the driver’s cab and in wait for Josten, they both climbed in and went carefully through the opposite door into the carriage itself. Slowly they worked their way along it, looking at every seat, every corner, shining their torches along the ceiling and the floor. At the second set of side doors, Andrew slowed down, paying particular attention to something. Josten progressed on to the very end. “It’s empty. There’s nothing.”

Unfortunately, he was wrong. Andrew had spotted a pair of intertwined black and red cables strung along the wall and down to one of the back seats. “Isn’t there?”

Josten turned back and pointed his torch to where Andrew was gently lifting the cushion, Andrew had his own light through clenched teeth. “Is that the bomb?” Josten asked.

Andrew stood up and lifted the cushion all the way to reveal that the cavity underneath was full of wired-up explosives. “It’s not carrying explosives.” He said. “The whole train compartment is the bomb.”

While Josten continued lifting seat cushions, Andrew looked around the carriage and then took a few steps along the aisle before realising that a floor panel was loose. As Josten looked down at the latest batch of explosives, Andrew bent to the panel, forcing his fingers into the gap and lifting it. Underneath was a device massively larger than the ones under the cushions. Probably the mother bomb.

While Josten took a minute to establish that he was surrounded in minefield filled with explosives that could go off at any point in time, Andrew propped the panel up against the wall of the train. They both looked down at the massive device. “Know how to defuse a bomb?” Andrew asked.

Josten cringed. “I don’t know, never had to defuse a bomb before. You think of something.”

“Why do you think I know what to do? I just asked you.”

“Because you’re Andrew Minyard. You’re as clever as it gets.”

“Doesn’t mean I know how to defuse a fucking bomb.”

“I can try but I can’t assure anybody will be alive after this.” Josten looked down at the countdown clock currently frozen at 2 minutes and 30 seconds. “Can’t we rip the timer off, or something?”

“That would set it off.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“See? You know things.” Josten pointed out.

Suddenly all the lights came on and the countdown clock on the mother bomb began to tick down. The boys looked at each other. “Fuck.” They simultaneously said.

“I don’t want to make things worse, you do something, Andrew.” Josten panicked.

“How the fuck am I going to make anything better?”

“Well fuck, fine. Leave, Andrew. I’ll figure it out.” Josten pointed to the exit.

Andrew groaned. “Don’t be a fucking martyr. There’s no point now, is there, because there’s not enough time to get away. If we don’t do this,” He exaggeratedly pointed to the bomb. “Other people will die.”

A minute and 50 seconds.

Josten looked down at the clock for a moment, then pointed to Andrew. “Use your brainy thing you do.”

“My what?”

“Brainy thing. The thing you do to make brainy deductions.”

“How will that help?”

“Fuck if I know, better than getting us exploded.”

“You’re the runaway here.”

“You’re the detective.”

“You were born in situations like these. You should know.”

“Oh, and you think I’ve just got a  _How To Defuse A Bomb_ tucked away in my runaway bag or something?”

“Yes!” Andrew’s nostrils flared. “Just think, Neil. You should know something.”

Josten’s hands came to his face as he squatted down to the bomb and breathed in quietly.

Minute and 30 seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Josten screwed his eyes closed for a moment, then looked to Andrew. “I can’t. I can’t do it, Andrew. I don’t know _how_.”

He straightened up on his knees and turned away as he tried to steady his breathing. Andrew moved away from the bomb and sat on the edge of one of the nearby seat. Josten paced around, looking down at the floor as he shuffled around. He then slowly turned his head towards Andrew, a soft feature breaching his face. “I want you to... not be dead.” He admitted a little hesitantly.

Andrew looked to him, then the bomb. A minute left. He blew out a breath, lowering his head, then he straightened up and looked at Josten.

“I don’t want you to die, either.” Andrew said. Josten was startled by the unexpected words.

Josten smiled endearingly. “It was fun. I had fun. For once I didn’t want to run anymore.”

There was silence as both boys stared at each other.

Andrew sighed. “For once I had a purpose. Hoped you could stay longer with me.” _But I don’t admit that to myself_ , he wanted to add. Josten didn't have to hear it to know.

“But you hate me.” Josten pointed a finger at his chest.

“I do. I really fucking hate you. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.” 

Josten looked around with a grin on his face like he was not believing they were doing this here. “You like me.”

“I despise you.”

“You really do like me.” He smiled. Then Josten's eyes went to the bomb and he grimaced from the scenario they were in.

30 seconds.

They did not have time for this.

He breathed in heavily and squatted down, looking rather determined and thoughtful.

Andrew gazed at him. Josten met his eyes for a moment, then he took in a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes, raised his head and braced himself as he fiddled with the wires. He better not kill them both because if he does, Andrew might do something reckless. If they make it out alive, perhaps he still would.

 

 

 

“The criminal network Riko’s family headed was vast.” Andrew had once explained to his brother as they sat for some tea earlier on in the week. Aaron simply laid back as he listened to his brother explain the situation that had happened to him. “Its roots were everywhere like a cancer, so we came up with a plan. You fed Kevin information about me. Kevin in turn gave us hints – just hints – as to the extent of Riko’s family. He was loyal, wouldn’t go against his so-called-master. That is until he planned to run away, after the mental damage Riko had made. We let him go. Let him be. Because it was important to let him believe he had the upper hand. And then I sat back and watched Riko destroy my reputation bit by bit.”

“I had to make him believe he’d beaten me, utterly defeated me, and then he’d show his hand. There were thirteen likely scenarios once we were up on that roof. Each of them were rigorously worked out and given a code name. It wasn’t just my reputation that Riko needed to bury – he wanted me dead. But it was all already planned out. Josten got to Jean, I got to Kevin. It worked out that way, what was best for us all.”

“But the one thing I didn’t anticipate was just how far Riko was prepared to go. I suppose that was obvious, given our first meeting at the swimming pool – his death wish. So Gordon died in the process. Even if it seemed like nothing, it was meant for a warning. A warning to Josten. And perhaps even myself. Josten used his family tree to get to Ichirou. Everything seemed possible in the end. Yet everybody wasn’t happy. There were still terrors out there, still people who needed to be dealt with. Still the everlasting process of living.” Andrew continued on, his tea practically finished as he told his point of view on the scenario, something that he was surprised Aaron was paying attention to. “But everything was anticipated, every eventuality allowed for. It worked perfectly in the end. A few flaws aside.” He had said. He wondered why he was telling his brother this when there was no point in the matter, their relationship would never change from the distant cold affection they had on one another. Everyone had been saying to fix it, yet the boys knew there was nothing to fix. They were both broken and even then, unrepairable.

“You remember the little girl who was abducted by Riko?” Andrew asked his brother.

Andrew remembered Claudette Bruhl screaming at the sight of him, Wymack dragging him out of the room. People thinking Andrew kidnapped them both. People thinking Andrew was pathetic and different than everybody, that he was no human nor would anybody associated with him would be. That he was someone people should avoid. Perhaps they were right, but that did not stop Andrew from doing what he liked to do. To protect those he cared about, and to work the job he found interesting in his lowly mind.

“Yeah.” Aaron looked down at the empty table as he answered the question Andrew had asked of him. 

“You assumed she reacted like that because I was her kidnapper. But I deduced Riko must have found someone who looked very like me to plant suspicion, and that that man – whoever he was – had to be got out of the way as soon as his usefulness ended. So Riko killed him. The girl was traumatised.”

Aaron nodded. “Clever.”

“He could have gotten to you. But he didn't. Of course you’ve wasted police time, perverted the course of justice, risked distracting me from this massive terrorist assault that could have both destroyed Parliament and caused the death of hundreds of people.” Andrew shrugged.

“I’m not sorry.” Aaron smiled.

“All this, cause mass amount of controversy.” Andrew sighed. “But it is now leading to nothing but a new beginning.” He hopped off the couch to go to the closet, taking out a chess game. “Come on, let’s play a game to distract ourselves more, why don’t we?”

And that was how it had all started.

To make up for their broken lives, they tried to get together as often as they could to at least show each other that there was something still there. The promise that may be broken, but itching under their names to fulfill even after all these years. The Minyards may hate each other, but to Andrew, nothing was like family. And Aaron was the closest he had to it. _He_ was family.

 

 

 

Andrew was standing in the Tube carriage with his eyes closed and his head raised against the wall.

As Josten lowered his hand and turned his head away. He started laughing quietly to himself as if the whole situation was a joke. Andrew looked across to him, confused on to why they were not dead, and yet Josten had the nerve to laugh.

Perhaps because the bomb didn’t blow.

It had been well past 30 seconds.

Staring at him, Andrew stepped forward and looked down at the countdown clock on the mother bomb. It was repeatedly flicking back and forth between :28 and :29. 

“There was an off switch, Andrew.” Josten told him.

“A what?”

“There was a fucking off switch.” Josten bent down to look at a switch besides the bomb. “Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there’s an off switch.”

“And why didn’t you say that before?”

“I didn’t know before. Panic makes me panic, Andrew.” Sure, that seemed like a thing to say.

Quirking a smile at Josten, Andrew turned and headed towards the exit. Despite himself, Josten let out another silent laugh and followed him out.

Perhaps Andrew should have taken that risk after all.

 

  
  
Photographers were milling around in the road outside Andrew's home, wanting to know the story of how they stopped the bomb, on how they were to end all of these terrorist attacks and if they knew what was coming.

In the meantime, Aaron’s voice came over the phone, his tone desperate. “Andrew, I give up. You can take over at the interval.”

Andrew was on his bed, body spread out and relaxing from all the stress. “Oh Aaron, it seems to me that you made a promise. There’s nothing I can do to help.”

“But you don’t understand the pain of it.” Aaron snarled, not wanting to get through the press. 

Grinning, Andrew ended the call and turned to Josten who was approaching along the corridor. “They want the story.” Josten called out.

Rolling his eyes, Andrew sighed. “Tell them I don’t want to.”

Josten chuckled and leaned against the door frame. “Got these today.” He tossed Andrew an envelope. Sitting back up, he opened it.

“The wedding?” Andrew asked.

“Do you even own a tuxedo?”

“I actually do.” Andrew quirked an eyebrow. “You on the other hand, I doubt it.”

“Not wrong there.” Josten shrugged. Andrew wouldn’t mind seeing him in a tuxedo. “It’s in a couple days. Boyd and Wilds said they booked us a room already, address is in the letter. As well as free candy from well, Boyd. Didn’t want mine, so you can take it.”

“Don’t want your charity.” Andrew sighed.

“But you do want more candy.”

Andrew shrugged. Perhaps he did, along with other things.

“So.” Josten shuffled his feet against the door. Andrew for a second thought they were going to talk about what had happened on the train, _the_ thing that happened. The elephant in the room. However once Josten spoke, it was something completely different. Was Andrew disappointing? He didn't know. For once, he really didn't. “Why did they try and kill me? If they knew you were on to them, why go after me, why put me in the bonfire?” Josten had then asked instead.

“I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing.” He got up from the bed, he may have answered more than one question. Something to which Josten was probably not even asking. “Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your life, Josten, real life is rarely so neat.”

Andrew stepped closer to Josten who rolled his eyes. “I don’t know who was behind all this, but I will find out, I promise you.”

Josten chuckled. “I know you will.”

And finally, Andrew kept the promise he said to himself. How reckless this next move would be, and for how long he loathed to do it.

So Andrew leaned closer, his breath ghosting over Josten's. “Yes or no?” He asked him.

Inches away from Josten's face, but not going any further from that, Andrew waited for a response. Josten titled his head, first confused, then understanding. Presumably knowing what was to come, but instead, gave Andrew a look. To make sure he was serious. When all seemed clear to him, he said a simple, “Yes.” A word that could be easily said, but meant the whole world to the both of them. Consent, Andrew wanted to laugh, so so simple. Josten waited for Andrew to begin, to understand that Josten meant what he said.

And Andrew did.

They both understood so perfectly, but failed to see it. In this moment, this special moment that they both needed so desperately, that they wanted to share ever since the beginning of their 'understanding' of one another, they clung to what they could. The fact that they were alive and both wanted one another, that they were safe and would continue to share secrets, to share cases, to share each other and everything that would come in life.

And this was how Andrew found himself kissing Neil Josten like his whole life depended on it.


	8. Case 8: Sign Of Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 2 Season 3 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings; Mentions of past abuse (vague, however). Case deals with stabbing, and there's drunken shit happening in here. Murders obviously, I shouldn't even have to say it at this point - it's in every chapter. Violence at some occasions in the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now to the author's note: Merry Christmas!! And another chapter for you all because of it!!
> 
> I know I updated yesterday, but haha, fact is, this whole December I was motivated to write two chapters and so I did. It helped that the first one was short, and since I had a lot of spare time this month.
> 
> Either way, please enjoy and many thanks to all who either helped or all those who simply reads my content. I wish you a great holiday!

Eighteen months ago, near the time that Neil Josten wasn't even part of the Foxhole Court, nor did it even have its name, a newspaper article had headed: _Bank Gang Leaves Cops Clueless_.

The accompanying photograph had showed two men outside a court holding their hands up in front of their faces. At the entrance to the court itself Detective David Wymack and Danielle Wilds walked briskly out through the door.

“They just walked out of there.” Wymack frowned, kicking the wall with his foot which sent up pains throughout his whole body. Immediate regret on his part.

“Yeah, I know. I was sort of sitting next to you.” Wilds laughed and leaned against the car's hood once they arrived to it.

Wymack caught up his breath from the minor injury. “The whole Waters family. They just walked right out of there.” He grumbled.

“Again, I was in the room.”

“How do they always manage that? Every fucking time.” Wymack scowled.

Wilds shrugged. “They’re good?”

“They’re greedy, and they’ll do it again, and next time we’re gonna catch them in the act.”

“How?”

 

  
  
About six months later, about the month of May, a newspaper article was headed: _Who Stole Our Two Million?_

It had been another victory for the Waters family. None of the cops were happy about it, nor was Wymack and Danielle who were assigned to get them cuffed for good. Wymack got into the driver’s seat of his car parked just outside the cordon and angrily slammed the door closed. Wilds was sitting in the passenger seat, sighing. “No good?”

“They always know we’re coming.” He said furiously. “How do they always know?”

“They’re good. They work at it.” She rolled her eyes.

“They’re never gonna stop.”

“Well, neither are we.”

 

 

Another six months passed, about the time Andrew and Neil had first met in November, a new headline read: _Police Are No Closer To Waters Gang Conviction_.

Wymack stormed out of the building with Wilds at his tail, both letting out angry incoherent noises as they walked from the courtroom. Wymack screamed and threw a rock at his car, then realised the damage and screamed even more.

Wilds, this time, did not roll her eyes at her superior.

 

  
  
Three months ago, near the time Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard were head meeting Allison Reynolds, a headline read: _Waters Gang Walk Free – Again!_

Nobody was happy.

On the steps outside the court, two uniformed police officers stood and watched Wymack repeatedly kick the living daylights out of the back tire of his car, grunting with fury. Wilds stood beside the driver’s door and helplessly watched him. “In the act!” He shouted. “The only way we’re gonna do this, is. In. The. Act.” He kicked the tire once more, and then Wilds had to drive him to the hospital yet again for an injured foot.

 

 

A week after the train tube incident, a man was wearing a gruesome clown’s mask and holding a sawn-off shotgun looking around a bank vault. He turned to where a second man, wearing a different but equally horrid-looking mask, straightened up from typing on a laptop as many other men were trying to open the vaults of the Bank. The second male was trying to get into the system, to steal the money, but Wymack and Wilds were ready for them.

In a car outside the bank, Wilds sat in the passenger seat with the laptop on her lap. The rooftop lights of nearby police cars were flashing and police officers were walking around. Wymack sat beside her, impatiently wanting for their capture. “You still blocking it?” He asked.

“Yeah. It’s very efficiently hacked. They must be bloody pleased with themselves.”

“They must be.” He agreed.

Armed police began to run into the bank. Wymack and Wilds were out of the car and Wymack gestured for her to follow the others. “Right then?”

“Oh, no. No, you’ve gotta make the arrest. This one’s yours, boss.” Wilds smirked.

They both grinned as they walked on. “You know how most days aren’t good days? This is a good day.”

“Not for the Waters family.” Wilds stuck up one finger to the walls of the Bank, while the other hand held her digital files.

Wymack’s phone beeped an alert. He looked down towards his pocket and grimaced, but ignored it. Wilds checked her files to make sure everything was alright. “Okay, ten men on the roof, all exits covered, the bank’s closed, so there are no hostages to worry about-”

Wymack’s phone beeped again. Wilds looked round at him, skeptically.

“Sorry, no, go on...” He told her, not wanting to answer the phone.

“We’ve got the tunnel entrance covered, and Davies, Willard and Christie are heading up our Response on Mafeking Road.” She said. Wymack’s phone beeped twice more. He took it from his pocket and stopped to look at it.

“I’d better get this.” He told her.

“I swear to god if it's fucking Andrew.” She mumbled, looking at her files.

It was Andrew.

Wymack sighed and looked up to Wilds. “I have to go.”

“What?” She whipped her head around to face Wymack.

“You make the arrest.”

“No fucking way.”

“Sorry. You’ll be fine. I’m cool with this.” He wasn't cool with it but the text said it was urgent. He had to see Andrew, he wouldn't have texted otherwise.

“Reynolds will get all the credit if you leave now! You know she will!” Wymack hesitated, reluctant to give up his chance for success but sighed heavily again.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. I have to go.”

He turned and hurried away. Wilds watched him for a moment, grimacing, then continued on with the other officers.

 

 

Wymack raced up the stairs and into the living room of 221B Baker Street. “What’s going on?”

Andrew was sitting at the dining table looking at his laptop. The fingers of both his hands were pressed against his temples. “It's difficult.” He said.

“What is?” Wymack asked, probably not wanting to know.

“Really difficult. Hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Lowering his hands, he picked up a book and held it up to show Wymack. Wymack expected it to be more terrorists attacks, more controversy with the Moriyamas. Yet he didn’t expect this. The book’s cover read:  _How to write an unforgettable best man speech_. “Have you any funny stories about Boyd? I fucking don’t.”

Wymack stared at him in disbelief. Outside, police cars were sirening their way into Baker Street and screeching to a halt.

“What?” Wymack looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

Putting the book down, Andrew looked up at him. “I need anecdotes.” He seemed to notice Wymack’s expression. “Didn’t go to any trouble, did you?”

Wymack stared at him, still breathing heavily. He called his fucking men thinking there was a crisis.

Outside, an ambulance was sirening its way up the road, and a helicopter could be heard approaching. Andrew’s eyes shifted sideways when he became aware of the noise outside. Wymack closed his eyes in exasperation and reached for his phone to call everybody off, knowing well to never trust a Minyard when he phoned him.

 

  
  
A violin could be heard, playing a gentle waltz in Andrew’s apartment. Bee came round, carrying a tray of tea. She stopped and smiled with delight as she saw Andrew waltzing around the room on his own and listening to the beautiful chords. He glanced over his shoulder when his therapist walked in.

“Shut up, Bee.”

“I haven’t said a word.” She smirked.

He stopped waltzing. “You’re formulating a question. It’s physically painful watching you thinking. Don’t use this as blackmail, because I’d like to see you try.”

“You never went to a wedding, have you?” She asked.

“No.” Andrew answered.

“Don’t stress out about it, you don’t even need to know how to waltz.” She said, laying down a cup.

Andrew picked up a remote control, switched off the music player and bent down to make a notation on the music sheet lying on the table. She smiled. “You were dancing.” She gave him a smug look. “And was that you playing?” She knew well it was probably him.

So Andrew threw his pen at her. He clearly missed on purpose and Bee smiled. “Why are you here?” He asked her finally.

“I’m bringing you your morning tea.” She poured milk into the mug. “You’re not usually awake.”

“You bring me tea in the morning?” Andrew asked.

Bee gave him a worrying look. “Well, where do you think it came from?”

“I just thought it sort of happened. Just appeared.”

“I worry about how Neil deals with you.”

Andrew shrugged. “I wonder how I even deal with him myself. I have a list of problems. He has a file.”

Giggling, Bee sat down on the couch. “So – Friday is the big day, then?”

“What big day?”

“The wedding! Dan and Matt getting married in two days.” She smiled.

“Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What’s big about that?” Andrew asked. Her never understood it, never thought weddings were important enough to have. He never saw himself on that altar, probably wasn't even accepted to be on one, gathering he wouldn't so have a bride if the time came. 

“It changes people - marriage.” Bee told him, settling down onto the couch next to him.

“Mmh, no it doesn’t.”

“Well, you wouldn’t understand because you always live alone.” Bee smirked. Andrew lifted a brow at her courage to say the words out loud.

“Your husband was executed for double murder. You’re hardly an advert for companionship.” Andrew told her and they softened the conversation to what they did in the previous week, to catch up on everything and to simply chat like they used to. It happened occasionally now that Josten was busy with Boyd dragging him everywhere, and Andrew having nothing to do all day but stare at the wall, play violin to which he had recently started to do, or talk to Bee in his free time. He often talked about his new forming relationship with Aaron, with Neil, with anyone, how annoying Day could get when he came over to investigate older cases Andrew never wanted to solve, having not solved them for a reason and what Day expected of the future.

Fucking Day.

But despite everything was curving around Andrew's life, he liked these moments. When he didn't have a care to hide away important information. He liked spending time with Bee.

He just wished he had something better to do than sit around all day and ponder.

 

 

Standing in the living room of 221B, Andrew looked at the wedding information files on the tables. He turned to where Wilds was sitting at the dining table and Boyd sitting next to him on the couch, comfortably slouched back and looking at his phone. The couple had come in Andrew's apartment, and told him to settle down as it would take awhile. He was there to help the wedding or something they had briefly mentioned. On that note, Andrew was only dragged in Josten's place and wasn't told much, so he honestly had no idea on why he was there.

“So why am I here?” He then asked for certainty. “I thought all this was Neil’s job?”

“You’re good at figuring out the reservations.” Boyd told him.

Andrew hummed and decided to keep his boredom away by doing more than just reservations. He looked to the list of things which needed to be done by Friday, to which led to all of them being ticked off, as he divided all the files into different areas. Transport, catering, music, wine, many other things included. On the kitchen table beside Wilds was a cardboard 3D model of the reception venue and table seatings of each person, one to which he was organising with the couple as Wilds told him who was coming and him telling her where she should place them.

“Andrew, you don’t have to do so much.” Boyd laughed. “It’s not until Friday, calm down. You've done more today than all of us have done in the past three weeks.”

“Calm? I am calm. I’m extremely calm.” Andrew huffed as he checked off another set of treats he knew Boyd would like as well as himself.

“Let’s get back to the reception, come on.” Wilds said, nudging her soon-to-be husband who muttered something and went back to his phone.

Andrew sighed and stood up, walking over to the table which had the seatings. He sat on the spinning chair in front of it, waiting for him to move along some names or change others, all to what Wilds would suggest or he would recommend for each individual guest. Boyd then found something interesting on his phone and grinned up at Andrew. “Oh, Nicky’s coming by the way.” He told him.

“Nicky’s coming?” Andrew groaned.

“He’s your cousin, of course he’s coming.” Boyd said like it was obvious he wouldn't miss it for the world. Knowing Nicky, he probably wouldn't.

“Is he bringing Erik?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t he?”

Andrew groaned again.

“What wrong with Nicky?”

“He’s Nicky.”

“I mean, fair point but still. Nicky's nice. I like Nicky”

Wilds cut both boys off, showing Andrew a picture of a woman and her reservation card. “Speaking of cousin’s, Matt has one on his dad’s side, she's coming. Top table or not?”

Andrew sighed and looked the photo over when he took the reservation card from her. “Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you.” Andrew told her. Boyd choked on his water at the subtlety.

“Seriously?” Wilds asked, shocked. 

“Second class post, cheap card,” Andrew sniffed the envelope. “Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stamp, three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.”

“Ah.” Wilds leaned over her shoulder to look at Matt with a smug look. “Let’s stick her by the toilets.” Wilds leaned closer to Andrew. “Who else hates me?” Instantly Andrew handed her a sheet of paper. There was a long list of names on it. Wilds’ smug look faded. “Wow, great, thanks.”

“Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting.” Boyd said from his phone. He was busy trying to find Andrew something to do, it was obvious due. They knew he didn't have a case yet, knew it was lacking because of the wedding. So obviously Boyd would go out to extent on bringing Andrew something to do. Andrew glared at him. He didn’t need Boyd to find him a case.

“Table four-” Wilds had started.

“Done.” Andrew handed Wilds the people assigned in those seats which would fit well with both the people around them, all of them together, and how their personalities would mesh with the wedding itself.

“My husband is three people.” Boyd scoffed as he read off an email. “What a case.” He cooed, as if trying to tempt Andrew.

“Table five?” Wilds asked as Andrew looked it over, ignoring Boyd who was trying too hard.

“Major James Sholto. Who he?” Andrew raised an eyebrow, looking at the list of people.

“Oh, Matt’s odd uncle. In the army. I don’t think he’s coming.”

“He’ll be there.” Boyd told her.

“Well, he needs to RSVP, then.”

“He’ll be there.”

Wilds hummed.

“Back to the case. My husband is three people. I think that would be interesting. Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.” Boyd tried once more.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Identical triplets – one in half a million births. Solved it without leaving the flat.” He pretended to be surprised, which Boyd knew was obviously fake adding a pout to conceal his pride. Andrew then looked to Wilds. “Now, serviettes.” Squatting down besides the coffee table, Andrew reached under and took out two serviettes folded into different shapes. “Swan, or Sydney Opera House?”

“Where’d you learn to do that?!” Wilds looked at both of the serviettes which were indeed the shapes Andrew had suggested.

“Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation-”

“Andrew.” Wilds raised her eyebrows.

“I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of-”

“I’m not Matt. I can tell when you’re lying.” Boyd scoffed to that.

Andrew sighed. “Okay – I learned it on YouTube.”

“Opera House will do.” Wilds smiled. She leaned to one side and reached into her trouser pocket, taking out her phone and lifting it to her ear. She walked away, talking and chatting to whoever probably reserved their spot at the wedding. Andrew continued to make do with the reservations and food. Boyd sighed as he hadn't gotten to Andrew yet on a case, knowing well he'd talk to Josten about it. 

The day went on for a while, the couple leaving some time around five to not miss their show they've been recently watching together. Andrew didn't care about it and just wished them off.

Once he was alone, he decided he was tired. He didn't want to wait for Josten to be done with his duty at the Foxhole Court with Day, sorting out records and landing in boring long conversations about Exy. So Andrew went to his bedroom and fell right onto the bed, trying to sleep off the day. Saying to himself he'd talk to Josten tomorrow about their current situation, about what they were.

However that was what he had been saying for the last couple weeks. And he had never fulfilled it.

 

 

“ _Dear Mr Minyard, My name is Bainbridge. I’m a Private in Her Majesty’s Household Guard. I’m writing to you about a personal matter, one I don’t care to bring before my superiors – it would sound so trivial – but I think someone’s stalking me. I’m used to tourists – it’s part of the job – but this is different. Someone’s watching me. He’s taking pictures of me every day. Don’t want to mention it to the major, but it’s really preying on my mind._ ” Andrew read off the email to Josten who was looking at him through his cup of morning coffee, hair rather damp from his morning run and shower. “Want to inspect?” He asked. Boyd wanted him to do something, so today he'd try and find an email that looked promising.

Josten raised an eyebrow. “A uniform fetishist?”

“Elite Guard.” Andrew added.

“Forty enlisted men and officers.”

“Why this particular Grenadier? Curious.”

“Now you’re talking.” Josten grinned.

 

 

There were a few group of Guards marching back to the barracks, and Andrew and Josten made their way to the barracks themselves, driving past the Her Majesty's Household which was large in itself. The Guards arrived back and were in the parade ground marching into position, preparing to be dismissed, as the parade sergeant giving them orders.

Parking Andrew's car in the local's spot, they got out and walked to the entrance where a duty sergeant was placed on a booth in front of the Household. Andrew gave him his wallet containing a new Detective ID and the Sergeant looked it over. “We’re here to see Private Stephen Bainbridge.” Andrew told him.

“He’s on duty right now, sir.” Sergeant said, handing back the wallet. “But I’ll certainly let him know when he’s free.”

“And when will that be?”

“Another hour.”

So Josten and Andrew waited.

Bainbridge, with another Foot Guard, were on duty outside the gates of the barracks some time later. He stood fixed in position and tourists took photographs. Over the other side of the road and a few yards back from the pavement, Andrew and Josten were sitting on a bench in the park looking towards the gates. “Do you think they give them classes?” Josten asked.

“Classes?”

“How to resist the temptation to scratch their behinds?”

“Afferent neurons in the peripheral nervous system.” Josten turned his head slightly in Andrew’s direction in wonder to what the fuck that could be. Andrew didn't elaborate.

Then there was silence.

But apparently this meant a good queue to talk about feelings according to Josten. “About last week.” He started, looking away from Minyard. “We never really got to talk about it.”

“Nothing to talk about.” Andrew shrugged. “It was nothing.”

Josten kept his look still. “There is no nothing, Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t want to admit anything. Josten was something Andrew couldn’t have, and it would stay that way. A pipe dream, a hallucination. Just someone to occupy the time. After they kissed, Josten didn’t back away, didn’t say no, continued to say yes throughout the moment. Andrew made him leave and that was about it. Nothing more. He was nothing.

“So. Matt’s uncle.” Andrew changed the subject, knowing well he was fighting the urge to tell himself off for holding out on the conversation for so long. Even when Josten gave him a perfect opportunity.

“What about who?” Josten raised an eyebrow.

“He was decorated, wasn’t he? A war hero.”

“Who is?”

“I just said Matt’s uncle." Josten looked to him unamused. Andrew sighed. "He led a team of new recruits. They all died, he was the only survivor. The press and the families gave him hell. He gets more death threats than you.” Andrew explained.

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Josten huffed. Andrew raised his eyebrows and looked round to him. “I’m glad I’m experiencing this wedding. The people I’ve know for the past six months, they have completely turned my life around, changed everything. But, for the record, over the last few months there are two people who have really done that. One is-”

Andrew was already walking away.

“Well apparently a complete dickhead." Josten tried to catch up to the blond as they both proceeded to head in the palace's direction. 

That did not last however, they were both headed their separate ways to fulfill more information quicker. Josten was to distract the guard officer or whoever it was in charge, and Andrew was to sneak inside to find Bainbridge.

Inside, Andrew walked across the entrance hall towards one of two flights of stairs. Two Guards wearing standard khaki army attire walked down the other flight and Andrew turned his head away from them, trying to make him unnoticeable. He grinned when it worked, wondering what kind of idiots they were to realise they let an unauthorised man into the queen's household.

He trotted up the stairs when two more soldiers walked across the landing, then he went up onto the landing. Several voices could be heard talking and laughing from a nearby room, and Andrew walked across and opened the door. Inside was a rec room where many soldiers were sitting and chatting. Two were playing table tennis and others were watching them. He closed the door again, sighed and moved on.

He had more important matters at hand.

 

 

In an office nearby, a guard officer was sitting behind his desk and looking at Neil’s fake detective ID card. He looked up at Neil who was sitting opposite him. “Can I ask what this is in connection with?” The guard officer asked.

“Private Bainbridge contacted us about a personal matter.”

“Nothing’s personal when it concerns my troops. What do you really want?”

“I’m not lying.” Neil rolled his eyes.

“You the press? Digging for some bloody Royal story or something?”

“No, sir, I’m Sergeant Neil Josten.” He lied, making well due of his fake ID and persona for whenever authority needed inspection on him. He had it prepared whenever on the run, and perhaps it would be of good use in scenarios like this. Even if it was rather illegal. He may have been Neil Josten, but he had no actual current ID at the moment. Not even a completed file.

“You could be a used car salesman now, for all I know.” The officer looked closely at Neil. “I know you, don’t I?” Neil’s eyes widened. He couldn't possibly be afflicted with his father. The officer tossed Neil’s card across the table, not caring for it. Neil picked it up and put it back into his pocket. “I’ve seen you in the papers.” Neil cleared his throat uncomfortably, slightly relieved it wasn't what he thought he was going to say, but the dread hanging was still present. “Hang around with that other detective – the short one. What the hell does Bainbridge want this time?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.” Neil told him.

“You’re not at liberty to say? He’s a soldier in my regiment – I’ll be damned if he’s going to get up to cloak and dagger nonsense like this.”

The duty sergeant then hurried into the room. “Sir Reed.” He looked terrified, panting and sweating. The sergeant stopped when he realised that the guard officer Reed wasn’t alone in the room. “Sir.” He warned.

“What’s going on?” Reed, the guard who now had a name, asked.

“It’s Bainbridge, sir.” He choked out. “He’s dead.”

 

 

In the shower room, Bainbridge was lying face down on the floor on top of a great deal of broken glass. There was a lot of blood on his lower back and Neil winced. Reed hurried over to the body staring at it in shock. “Oh god.” He said.

Sighing deeply at the sight, Neil walked towards Bainbridge but Reed held up a hand to stop him. He tried to move closer, but Reed stopped him once again. Neil flashed him an angry glare and pointed towards the now-dead Bainbridge. “Let me take a look at the body, I know how to deal with this shit and what it was caused by.” Neil told him.

“What?” Read scoffed. “Sergeant, arrest this man.”

The duty sergeant instantly took hold of Neil’s arms and held him back.

“What? No! Do you want him to fucking die, you asshole?” Reed jerked his head towards the door. “Let me examine him, please.”

The sergeant started to pull Neil away but just then another officer came in, bundling Minyard into the room. “Sir, caught this one snooping around.” He told Reed.

Reed looked at Neil. “Is that what this was all about? Distracting me so that this man could get in here and kill Bainbridge?”

“Don’t be fucking-”

Minyard sighed loudly enough for all entities to look at him. “Kill him with what? Where’s the weapon?” Minyard had pulled free of the other sergeant and was walking towards Reed, who still blocking his way from the body.

“What?” Reed looked at him confused.

“Where’s the weapon? Go on, you could try and search me. But trust me, you wouldn't like it.  _And_ you would find no weapon. I'd rather you not have a broken arm from simply not believing me.”

Neil laughed and added, “Bainbridge was on parade. He came off duty five minutes ago. When’s this supposed to have happened?”

“You obviously stabbed him before he got into the shower.” Reed explained, looking at the duo.

“No.” Minyard said.

“No?”

“He’s soaking wet and there’s still shampoo in his hair. He got into the shower and then someone stabbed him.” Minyard rolled his eyes.

“The cubicle was locked from the inside, sir. I had to break it open.” The first officer said.

“You must have climbed over the top.”

“Well then I’d be soaking wet too, wouldn’t I?” Minyard pointed out.

“Let me examine the fucking body.” Neil demanded. Reed looked down at the body for a long moment, then finally looked at the first officer and nodded sharply. The man released Neil and the latter stretched his arms a bit before looking down at the body.

The first officer looked to the second. “Suicide?”

Minyard looked at the two officers. “No. The weapon again – no knife.” Minyard walked to the front of the shower cubicle and squatted down to look all around it, then towards Bainbridge’s head. Neil was already examining Bainbridge’s lower back as they both worked out the scene on their own.

“There is a wound to the abdomen – incredibly fine.” Neil said.

“Man stabbed to death. No murder weapon. Door locked from the inside. Only one way in or out of here.”

Neil had moved to Bainbridge’s head and peeled one of his eyes open. “Andrew.” He warned.

Minyard hummed in question.

“He’s still breathing.”

The second officer gasped. “Oh my God.”

“What do we do?” Minyard looked to Neil.

Neil decided, well fuck it. He took the sides of his long sleeved shirt and ripped it off, revealing scars of knives and burns on his arm. He flushed a little at the exposure, not liking people to know about them, let alone even see them, but decided this could save a dying man. He put the cloth against the wound in Bainbridge’s back and pressed his hands onto it, trying to stop the bleeding. He looked to one of the officers. “Now, do us all a favor and call the fucking ambulance instead of standing around like offended mothers hearing about their roudy neighbours for the first time. It would help wonders.”

The first officer complied and left the room, looking rather green and probably not expecting this was to have happened today.

Minyard looked slightly to Neil's exposed arm, then back to the dying man. He moved to Bainbridge’s head and tried to nudge him to stay with him.

They just hoped he would survive it.

 

 

“So, Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? I invite you to consider this, a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish. Would anyone like to make a guess?”

The guests fidget and looked at each other in the wedding reception room. 

And wondered why the fuck this was Andrew’s best man speech.

Andrew looked around, waiting for an answer and groaned. “There is actually an element of Q and A to all of this.” Andrew snarled, not liking this one bit and would give Boyd hell for the next couple years to come.

He looked to Wymack’s group. “Scotland Yard. Have you got a theory?” Wymack looked to Andrew and stared at him blankly. “Yeah, you David. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Answer the fucking question.”

“Fuck if I know. What’s this speech even about?”

Abby nudged him in the shoulder. “I mean, the blade was, er, propelled through the,” He stopped for a moment to think. “Through the grating in the air vent. Maybe from a ballista, maybe from a catapult. Wait, somebody tiny could have crawled in there.” Wymack nodded. “We’re looking for a fucking dwarf guys.”

Andrew stared at him blankly. Returning the glare. “Wow.”

“Really...?”

“No.”

Wymack sighed and looked about done with Andrew.

“He stabbed himself.” Reynolds mused from her seat.

“Got a theory, Reynolds?” Andrew asked, curious to see how extreme she would go.

“Hell yeah I do.” She stood up. Mothers covered their children’s ears. Bit too late for that. “Attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone. Broke after piercing his abdomen like a meat fucking dagger.” A couple of the guests snickered. Sitting beside Reynolds, Walker’s face was a picture of disbelief. At the top table, Andrew’s expression also spoke volume.

“A meat dagger?”

“Yes.”

“There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, which didn't involve a meat dagger. Quite frankly it was the usual case that we had solved. Neil Josten – who, while I was trying to solve the murder, saved a life.” Boyd quietly laughed in delight, and Josten covered his face in the front table. He knew it would rile the male, and so Andrew continued on. “There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling. And,” Andrew read off the paper on his desk. “Along with - sometimes, on occasion, not everyday, but on good days, the best and bravest man I know? Or does that say breakfast, I have no idea.” Andrew coughed, putting down his cue cards. “On top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. So that’s decent.” Boyd lowered his head, hiding his laughter. “Except wedding plans– he sucks at those.”

“Wait, no.” Boyd held a pained expression.

The guests laughed.

“So now back to the case, because that’s enough of Boyd already. He’s already having a wedding, that’s enough attention for him.” Andrew huffed. “The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder – or attempted murder – I’ve ever had to encounter, the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware.” Andrew explained without emotion, without so a flare in his speech. Anything he had said held nothing but a monotonous expression, and many guests wondered why he was up there talking about murders instead of celebrating the Boyd-Wilds event. He had no enthusiasm to it, yet everyone who knew him well enough could tell the difference between Andrew being interest and Andrew being disinterested. The former seemed to fit in this situation, even if it wasn't clear enough to everyone else.

“Why did we make him the best man and the entertainer at the same time?” Wilds asked.

Boyd smiled in delight.

“Wait, fuck no, how was it done?” Wymack argued.

“How was what done?”

“The stabbing.”

Andrew looked down for a few moments, then raised his head. Josten laughed. “Oh.” He said. “Did he forget to tell you this was one of his unsolved mysteries. He has a lot of those.” He mused, getting back at Andrew. This fucking Josten.

“Anyways.” Andrew frowned. “Onto the next story.” He said.

The room groaned.

 

 

The boys had just returned from a quiet, civilized evening with a case involving the death of a drunk man who was killed by a bartender. Andrew had an idea which he thought could hold many purpose and decided to pay Walker a visit in order to pursue it.

“Murder scenes?” Walker turned and looked to Andrew standing besides her. “Locations of murders?”

Andrew hummed. “Pub crawl – themed. Murder scenes where there's a pub near by, yes.”

“Yeah, but why can’t you just do Underground Stations? Lots of murders happen there.”

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Lacks the personal touch. We’re going to go for a drink in-”

“-every street where you found a corpse?” Walker laughed.

“Don’t want to get ill. That would ruin it – spoil the mood.”

“You’re a graduate criminologist. Can’t you just work it out?”

“I lack the practical experience.” He smiled at her.

She looked at him straight-faced and her voice dropped half an octave. “Meaning you think I'd like a drink. I don’t drink, Andrew. Neither does Neil.”

“I’m not talking about Josten or you, I’m talking about Day.” Andrew huffed. “Apparently _he’s_ a drinker.”

Walker sternly held his gaze. Andrew took a large folder full of papers from his coat and put it on the table. “I want you to calculate Day’s ideal intake so it remains in the sweet spot the whole evening. I want to see how much each alcohol level at each pub would affect his person. The stages of him drunk.”

The folder appeared to be full of his and Day's medical records and other personal documentation. Walker looked to them. “He’s a lightweight.” She said. “From the blood pressure.”

Andrew hummed. “Perfect.”

 

 

Andrew stood at the bar and looked at the bartender. “Two beers.” He asked of him.

“Pints?”

Andrew nodded and took the glasses of alcohol over to the table where Josten and Day were. “Four hundred and forty-three point seven milliliters.” He told them.

Shortly afterwards he and Day took the glasses. Josten looked at them both in disbelief, then sighed heavily. Josten was their referee, simply because Josten didn’t drink. Andrew took out his phone, selecting an app and putting it onto the bench. The phone’s stopwatch started up.

“What, are we on a schedule?” Day asked.

“Problem, Day?”

Groaning, Day went right for a chug and Andrew followed suit. Josten muttered something of the like that he didn’t know why he hung out with imbeciles like the both of them.

The next pub, the two drank again. Calculating how much they could drink in the span of time, and how it affected their brains a little differently than the last.

Another pub, standing at the bar, Andrew drained his glass, wiped his lips and watched as Day took double his amount from last time. Junkie.

At the next, Day took a long pull on his drink and hummed appreciatively, while Andrew looked thoughtfully at the level of beer remaining in his own glass. They both turned and looked down at Andrew’s phone on the bar, then Day slammed his hands on the desk, saying they still needed more.

Fifth pub - and the two boys were already intoxicated. Josten simply watched in amazement as they kept on drinking, again and again and again. 

Sitting at a table on the sixth pub, the boys drained their latest beers, grimacing as they put the glasses onto the table. The bar had loud music playing which wasn't helping their case, it was some sort of annoying pop song that Day was enjoying. Josten turned and looked all round the room in interest, anywhere but his drunk friends. Andrew pointed over Day’s shoulder. “Over there.”

“What?” Day raised an eyebrow.

“Toilets. Any second now, you’re going to-”

Day looked like he didn’t hear him, the music humming into his ears. “Hang on.” He shouted through the noise. “Tell me after – I need to fucking piss my balls off.” And he walked a couple steps away before Andrew looked to Josten. “Told you. On schedule.”

“Eh?” Day looked offended and turned around so fast at the sound of his name. His face was massively flushed from the drinks.

“Leave, Kevin.” Day stumbled off, while Andrew looked at his phone and pulled up his charts which measured urine output against blood alcohol level for Day's medicare files and the challenge at hand. He updated the alcohol level chart and finished it. Josten groaned and placed his head in his arms, pretending to sleep through it all as long as he didn't get involved with these drunkards.

A little while later, Day returned to the table.

“How long?”

“What?”

“Your visit.”

Day sat down and gave him a quizzical look. Andrew looked down at his chart. “If you could estimate approximate volume discharged-”

“Stop talking now.” Day groaned.

Josten looked to the point of tears when Andrew said they were going to the other pub. Day went to go puke at one point, leaving him and Josten alone.

Andrew slammed his hands on the bar. “He’s gone. Quick, one more. Put some Whiskey in it.” The barman handed him another, slightly scared. He drank the shot glass in one gulp, humming and taking a second which the barman quickly pushed his way, then backed the hell away from the blond. “Give me four.” Andrew smirked. The barman complied, looking rather done with his job. This time, Andrew dropped all four into Day’s glass.

He smirked at Josten who rolled his eyes. Pretty eyes. Blue, very blue.

And hell - they ended up in the bathroom.

They mouths were inches apart. Andrew stared at Josten sternly. “Yes or no?”

Josten smiled. “Yes, Andrew.” As Josten knew what he meant and he leaned closer to allow Andrew to start. Andrew grabbed his hands over his head before he could touch him, and smashed their mouths together. It may have been in the heat of the moment, Andrew didn’t care about anything. He let his guard down in the heated kiss, as Josten didn’t seem to move his hands from his grip or make a move to Andrew’s control. Andrew wondered why his mouth was so soft, yet so firm at the same time. It was gentle at first which then contradicted itself. Josten stayed in his boundaries as Andrew unraveled his mouth.

He pushed Josten slightly against the wall, his chest crashing into the other's. He felt warm, heavy and leaned his weight onto the left leg sliding between Josten's own.

Josten had opened a little to let Andrew’s tongue slide in, and Andrew didn’t know if it were the alcohol that was making him so lightheaded or the fact that he was kissing Neil Josten, who was practically groaning under him. Wanting more.

They parted and took a breath, staring at each other. He knew this wouldn’t last, but he held onto it while he could. Getting the most out of it from the time that they had. He made out every detail from the younger male, memorised every curve and line form his face, from the way his hair was parted, slightly sticking to his forehead with heat. From the way his lips were pink from use, and parted like he earned for more. The flustered cheeks, silk lashes and lean form. Everything about Josten made Andrew feel something. He hated him about 80% of the time.

But even though everything that he wanted, everything that he knew he couldn't get, everything that made him feel was right in front of him, Andrew was still so confused - it couldn't be possible. He felt like he was more or less using the time they had, these little moments, to simply get what he wanted then leave. End it all after his emotions were used up. He wouldn't be hurt again, he couldn't hurt Neil Josten.

Andrew backed away from the younger male, and walked out of the bathroom. He didn't care that he left Josten to his own thoughts for a few minutes, perhaps it was more for himself than anything. He wanted to make sure Josten knew this wasn't real, that it didn't matter. He was drunk. He wasn't thinking.

The latter however was more difficult to convince, saying that it did matter and they could make something out of it. That Andrew wasn't dreaming and that he they were something - not nothing.

Andrew swore.

He was getting too distracted from his real objective tonight.

 

 

When Day came back, they all were back at the bar stools, drinking their respective glass. Day was fucking wasted and Josten coughed to hid a laugh at the slurs Day was saying - all nonsense, some Irish phrases none of the two knew. However, Andrew didn't miss the way Josten's eyes would linger on him from time to time, Andrew simply glared in response. That fucker. Even when their eyes met, Josten only smirked wider.

It wasn’t over yet - the drinking. Another pub was next. One last.

Day could barely speak and Andrew found this social experiment on getting to know his assistant’s alcohol stability a bit entertaining. It had many purpose. From filling out Day's incompleted medical file, to seeing how drunk he could get or wanted to be, how Day would change the more he drank and the affects alchol had on his personality.

All in all, Day loved to drink but was a complete lightweight as Renee had said. He was honestly the best drunk Andrew had ever met. He was emotional, violent, flirty and simply eccentric and all at the same bloody time. Everything you'd think in a person, the definition that was drunk, mix it all together to create what was known as Kevin Day. All in one package for Andrew's entertainment and notes.

Josten followed along wherever they went, not drinking one sip but simply being there to guide them and make sure they didn't do anything stupid.

That did not last for long.

In the smoking area outside the pub, Day was loudly and drunkenly gesticulating and sounding off to a male customer over the very loud music. Josten was sitting at a nearby table, looking fairly legless himself. He covered his face with his hand in Day’s gestures and groaned, tired from sleep and from being near Day. “I want- No. Exy. Yes, exy. I meant no. I don’t want that. But yes for exy. Exy is always yes!” Day cried to the man. Andrew didn't even know what they were arguing about, did not entirely care.

On each word, Day poked the man in the upper chest with one finger, and on the last one, he put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pushed him to the ground. The man grunted, startled by Day's outburst. Sighing, Josten looked up as the man swung a punch at Day’s face. Day swayed back. Andrew was on the man, holding him by the collar in an instance. All in all, shit went down and the boys ended up in the next pub with a few bruises, but hey, they won. Even Josten participated when the man's friends came to help and they were an equal fight.

No death occurred at least.

However, broke bones had slipped in at some point from the other team. Only minor injuries for the boys themselves.  
  
Even so, the three boys were also kicked out of that bar for the next years to come, and decided to go to one more before collapsing back at home.

Screw their last one, they needed something good to end it all.

 

 

Turns out none of them had the guts or stomach - literally - to enter the pub. Day was puking throughout the ride there, Neil was sleep deprived as it was presumably late at night - they couldn't exaclty tell the time and they had no effort to. Not the mention Minyard got grumpier the more drinks he had and didn't care for much. 

So that was how the boys were sitting on the steps to their "last pub". Neil was on his back by the wall with his arms folded and observing the blurry lights from cars that went past turning to black every time his eyes drifted asleep, Minyard was on his side facing the banisters, staring into the sky and in his own thoughts. Day was almost sleeping, mouth open as drool escaped from the sides and resting his head on the wall. They were all tired, and drunk. Either from alcohol or sleep deprivation. 

“I have an international reputation.” Day muttered through sleep. Neil briefly opened his eyes, then closed them again and settled his head into a more comfortable position. Day looked over his shoulder to Minyard. “Do you have an international reputation?”

Minyard settled his head down and closed his eyes again. “I do.”

He looked to Neil. “Do you, Nathaniel?”

“How many times do I have to tell you tonight, to not fucking call me that.” He mumbled. “But, no. I wish to not have one.”

Day paused for a moment, then turned his head towards Neil a little but didn’t open his eyes. “And I can’t even remember what for.” Day thought for a second then laughed. “Waiiit.” He slurred. “It was Exy. How could I forget the love of my life.”

Neil chuckled and slouched, his hand resting on his head as a cushion. Minyard stared at couples coming in and out of clubs nearby, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath. Day simply kept on laughing. Laughing and laughing and not stopping for any reason, and nobody really knew what was funny to him anymore. His laughs ended up being contagious because Neil joined in soon after. Minyard simply furrowed his eyebrows at the choruses of laughter. He settled his head back down on the stair and grunted quietly.

Neil finally stood up and dragged the boys back home. Minyard gave him permission to ride the car, tossing him spare keys. “Keep them.” He said, a little tipsy in his words. Neil was shocked to how he could keep the keys if Minyard needed them, or if Minyard was too drunk to be serious, yet Neil nodded in response and decided it was best to question it when Andrew wasn't intoxicated and tired. He smiled slightly to himself.

So Neil drove them all home, gathering he was the only one out of the three of them decent enough to actually, physically, drive.

 

 

At 221B, Day was fast asleep on their couch, Neil was on the floor looking up at the ceiling and Minyard was preparing some coffee for his headache that was already forming. Betsy came in and stopped in surprise at the sight of them. Drunk, bruised, tired. Everything she either not expecting to see, or was feigning shock. “What are you doing back? I thought you were going to be out late.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Bee. Bumble Bee.” Minyard chimed, then his look grew serious. “What time is it?”

“You’ve only been out two hours.” Betsy told them.

All boys sat up in surprise. Day fell off the couch and thumped on his backside onto the floor.

Not a minute after, they were all sleeping once again. An on off cycle. Day went on the couch, Neil pulled up a duvet and went on the ground. Minyard gave them all a smug look and flipped them off as he went to his own bedroom.

Throughout the night, Day looked to a blurry Neil as the latter tried to sleep. “I can’t sleep. Do me.” He said. Neil almost spat out his drool.

“Do what?”

“Do a game.” He slurred.

“A game?”

Day handed him a pen and paper. And by handed, he meant threw them at Neil - weakly.

Soon, each of them had a paper stuck onto their head, either an object or a person was written on their forehead, yet none of them could see their own. Day said they had to guess what their respective forehead-cards said, while asking questions to find out what it was. Neil wondered why they were playing this at one in the morning, but decided he couldn’t win against a drunken Day. It kind of reminded him of their small games they’d play as a child. Just less... brutal. The nostalgia was overwhelming, more bad than good.

Day peered at him, apparently trying to keep his eyes open. “Am I a vegetable?” He asked.

“You, or the thing on your forehead?” Neil asked, sipping Minyard's coffee the blond didn’t want to finish. It was cold but Neil did not have a care in the world. He looked to what he wrote on Day’s forehead and snickered. He didn't know why he wrote Minyard's name, probably because it was the last person Day would think of, but it made him feel delighted somewhat.

Day frowned. “Am I a fucking vegetable?”

“No, you aren’t a fucking veggie, Kevin.”

“It’s your go.”

Neil thought. “Am I human?” He asked.

“Sometimes.” Day said.

“Can’t have sometimes. Has to be-”

“Fucking fine. Yes, you’re human.” Day, however, had a glass of vodka instead of coffee. Where he got it, Neil did not know. They had no vodka in the apartment. “And am I a man?” Day asked in return.

“Yep.”

“Tall?”

Neil laughed. “Not at all.”

“Nice?”

“I mean...”

“Clever?”

“I’d say so.”

“You would?” Day hummed in thought. “Am I important?”

“To some people.” Neil smiled.

“Do people like me?”

“Well not you, but not the person on your forehead either.”

“Okay.” Day looked confused. “Am I the current King of England?”

“Are you ...?” Neil raised his eyebrow. “You know we don’t have a king?”

“Don’t we?” Day asked. Neil shook his head. “Your go.”

Neil smirked. “Am I the current King of England?”

Day’s eyes widened. “How did you fucking know?!”

Neil sighed and drank his coffee. Day chugged his own concoction.

Unfolding his legs, Neil shifted forward until he was sitting right on the edge of his seat. And apparently, Day didn’t stop the game there, he wanted to guess who he was. “So I am human, I’m short.” He repeated and drank more vodka. “I’m a mean, in a way. Clever, important to some people but I tend to annoy most.” Day stretched out his feet and propped them against the sofa. “Got it.”

“Go on, then.”

“I’m the current King of England.”

Neil laughed at the prideful look Day was giving him, as if he knew who he was and could see right through Neil. He was a complete idiot.

Then a knock came at the door. Both boys looked to each other, then to Minyard’s room. Neil would have to deal with it himself it looked like, even if he didn't so like it. Minyard often let him do roles on his own, but to take control of the client completely, at their house, he wasn't so used to. Perhaps he could let Day take control instead, become one with Andrew Minyard, that would indeed be funny and make his night.

Apparently Betsy let the client in, because a woman was standing at their doorway, wearing a nurse’s outfit and a coat over it. She looked at both boys who had their cards still on their foreheads, sitting in the middle of the living room with one cup in one hand, a bottle of alcohol in the other's. It looked quite odd..

“Hello.” Day cooed finally.

“Hi.” She replied. “Which one of you is Andrew Minyard?”

Day pointed to himself and Neil swatted his hands away. “Not here at the moment.” He answered her.

Shortly after, the boys had removed the papers from their heads and relocated to sit side by side on the sofa. The woman sat on a dining chair facing them. “I don’t.” She started. “I mean, I don’t date all that much.” Day sank into the sofa, humming in comfort. “And he seemed nice, you know? We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night – dinner, such interesting conversations. It was lovely.” Day smiled and glanced to Neil who looked back at him. “To be honest, I’d love to have gone further. But I thought, No, this is special. Let’s take it slowly.” Neil tilted his head, Day shifted in his position - was he sleeping? “We exchanged numbers. He said he’d get in touch and then,” She looked down sadly. “Maybe he wasn’t quite as keen as I was. But I just thought,” She teared up a little. “At least he’d call to say that we were finished.”

Neil kicked Day awake, he flinched up and muttered something to the younger male. The woman lifted a hand to wipe a tear from her eye. Day’s face filled with sympathy and sadness for her, even without knowing too well of the situation because he was _fucking_ _sleeping_. That did not stop him from hugging her and the woman was startled by the movement. Neil rested his head in his hands. Fucking Day. He was contemplating getting drunk himself to not deal with this. He just wanted sleep.

She fell silent as Day backed away frowning as if wondering where the hell that emotion came from. Or where the hell he was for that matter.

Then the woman coughed. “I went round there, to his flat. No trace of him.” Day smiled cheekily at her, his eyes starting to close at the same time. Neil quietly laughed at how fast his emotions were changing, and how much Day was being a prick at the moment. “I honestly think I had dinner with a ghost.” The woman then confessed.

She turned her head and looked towards Neil. Neither of the boys reacted to what she had just said, but a slight grunt came from Neil, followed by a noisy but brief exhale. Did Day just hit him?

“Mr, uh-?”

“Kevout.” Day said. “Wait. No.”

“Mr. Kevout?”

“In.”

“Mr. In?”

“Kev. In. N’out.” He tried but struggled and pouted. “Kevin.”

“Well. Did you hear me then. I think I had dinner with a ghost, Mr. Kevin.”

Day's head fell off his hands and he almost tumbled off the sofa. He did. And was now sleep. The woman’s eyes widened as she shrieked.

“Not again.” Neil sighed, looking back to the woman. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Dinner. With a fucking ghost.”

“Andrew would say it’s boring. But fuck Andrew. I think the case sounds fascinating.” Neil may not be drunk but he was sleep deprived and probably said that with the heat of the moment. She turned to Neil abruptly in hopes that he would help. This was something he could do, he could do this case and impress the blond. It was indeed fascinating like he said. He looked to Day who was practically snoring. “Kevin. Wake up.” Day grunted then opened his eyes and turned to the woman. “Apologies about my you know…. Thing.” Neil looked to Day.

Day pulled in a breath, cleared his throat, then turned to Neil. “Did you just call me a fucking thing?”

The woman stared at them, ignoring their banter. “I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there we are, having dinner one week on.” She picked up her handbag from the floor and rummaged through it. “And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing.” She took out a printout and gave it to Day. Why Day? He was the intoxicated for one, and he'd probably eat it for all Neil knew. “For girls who think they’re dating men from the spirit world.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him in ten minutes.” Day puffed out his chest. The woman smiled with delight. “What’s your dog’s name, again?” Then she frowned.

“Kevin, I didn’t realise you liked solving shit?” Neil smirked.

“We’re meant to,” Day clicked his fingers. “The game is soon.” He slurred and stumbled away to Minyard’s room. Neil’s eyes drifted to him, wondering what death would consume Day in the few seconds he had.

The woman just gasped excitedly, thinking they were actually being serious about this.

Then Day screamed.

 

 

Andrew joined their adventure a few minutes later, grouchy and partly into his hangover. Day wobbled unsteadily in a room that Josten drove them to. The building of the ghost dude, the nurse's building - apparently. Josten told him everything that had happened, the whole conversation even the game they had shared. Andrew stared at him in wonder to why the fuck they agreed to all of this.

The three boys were in what looked like a warehouse conversion. It was a large apartment with bare brick walls and a very high ceiling. The room was decorated with several pieces of modern furniture and art. Day grinned drunkenly, then straightened up a bit and looked around the room. He was currently kneeling on the sofa with his arms braced on its back. Andrew was kicking everything in sight, but his moves were rather tipsy. Josten stood nearby, leaning against a supporting pillar in the middle of the room and watched the two.

“Nice place.” Day said.

Andrew stood up off the sofa, then promptly fell back, resting his back on the pillows. The woman - who introduced herself as Tessa - was standing nearby, together with the landlord who was holding a set of keys and looking at the boys in confusion. “Nice place.” Day nodded again and shook the landlord’s hand.

The landlord sighed and crossed his arms. Andrew got up and tottered around the living room.

“See anything?” Andrew looked to the woman who posed the question. Tessa, yes, he should remember it this time. However his mind was not cooperating with him at the moment.

“Who are you, again?”

“I tried coming to you specifically but your friends were there. They must have explained.”

“No. Have you seen the state of them. All are sleep deprived, and one is just fucking wasted. I'd rather be anywhere but here at the moment.”

“It’s about the ghost date.” Tessa explained.

“Oh. You’re _that_ woman.” Andrew groaned.

Tessa seemed rather annoyed by that, but let it be since she knew well enough of Andrew to understand that he was a moody person altogether. “So, any clues, Mr. Minyard?”

Andrew looked to Josten who had now braced his back against the pillar with closed eyes.

He looked back to Tessa - his vision was rather blurry actually, so she was nothing more than a few squiggles and smudges mixing with her regular self. Sighing, he began to look over the place for anything the looked good enough for evidence. There was nothing to the fancy coffee table. Perhaps it was designer. It was a table. Was it art? He looked across to an armchair. So it that, he knew was a chair. A seat. It was leather and fuck, he needed sleep. He could just. Go on the seat? And rest? That sounded nice.

Moving on to a fancy-looking speaker. Thing. Speaker thing. Hi Tech. Thing. What? His mind wasn't making sense, nothing was.

Why was he here again?

Then Andrew’s eyes drifted onto a painted animal skull on a stand. Death? Skull. Deaded. Was deaded a word? And that slender ornament on the window sill. Andrew narrowed his eyes. The pale green egg chair. That sitty thing, what the fuck was that fucking thing?

Humming vaguely, Andrew wandered over to the chair and looked more closely at it, then twirled around and his eyes settled in a rather unfocused way on Tessa. She was a nurse. His client. A victim? She wore a coat. Fascinating. Coats. He liked his own.

The landlord sighed again while Tessa smiled awkwardly. Josten was still half-asleep leaning against the pillar. Day was looking around and breaking more things than he should have done. Andrew dropped to his knees on a white rug. Tessa turned to Josten and gently nudged him upright from the pillar. “You alright?” She smiled.

“Yeah.” Josten said warily flinching from his sleep.

Day grinned wide. “He’s clueing.”

Tessa looked to Day. “What?”

“He’s... hmm? He’s clueing for looks. I’m join.”

They all looked down at Day, who had brought his face down to within about four inches of the rug where Andrew looked at him suspiciously. Day was holding a magnifier to his eye and looked through it, then his eyes drifted closed and he slowly toppled forward and face-planted onto the rug. “Mr. Day?” Tessa asked.

Day didn’t respond. He snored noisily. Tessa looked nervously at the landlord and stepped forward towards Day. “Mr. Day?!” She tried to wake him.

“I’m calling the police.” The landlord said.

The landlord walked across to the rug and hauled Day up onto his knees. Day flailed at him. Landlord stepped back as Josten held out a warning hand to not touch the male, pointing at the ground to make Landlord let him go. Landlord, with narrow eyes, complied. Dropping Day to the ground with a splat, gravity having taken over the situation.

“This is a famous detective. It’s Andrew Minyard and his partners Kevin Day and Neil Abram Josten.” Tessa said. Josten stepped towards the landlord, attempting and failing to look threatening. His eyes narrow and cold towards the older male.

Day puffed up his chest at the man. “What do you think you were doing? Don’t compromise the integrity of the famous-” Day turned around and threw up on the rug.

The landlord closed his eyes, and Tessa put her hand across her mouth in horror. Andrew’s eyes drifted upwards, hoping that Day could get a sensibility for once.

With a small amount of silence, and thinking on Josten's part, he finally perked up and looked to Tessa. “Crime scene!” Josten finished Day’s sentence with a triumphant grin. Day turned around to high five Josten, Tessa watched them in utter terror. Andrew coughed and straightened up.

“Idiots.” He said then left the room. Leaving the mess alone in his trail.

 

 

Andrew’s eyes moved behind his closed lids while a rasping sound came out of his mouth, something similar to a groan. He blinked a couple of times, then opened his eyes. A door opened nearby and Andrew realised he was sleeping on the floor of a white-tiled room with his back against the wall. Grimacing at the sound of the door, he looked up to see Wymack frown.

“Wakey-wakey.” Wymack said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He rested his hand on his head and peered towards the door which looked nothing like his house. He turned besides him and saw Josten flat on his back and fast asleep on a bench in front of a holding cell. Day was in said cell, face squished against the bars.

“Get up. I’m gonna put you through to a taxi. Managed to square things with the desk sergeant.” Wymack flicked Josten’s forehead. He was startled awake and freaked out for a split second, wondering why he was outside a holding cell. Honestly, Andrew kind of forgot what had really happened. They both climbed to their feet, Wymack laughed at them both. “What a couple of lightweights. You couldn’t even make it to closing time.”

Day grunted in his cell. “Can you whisper?”

“I didn’t even drink, why do I feel like this?” Josten groaned.

Day flailed downwards when Wymack opened the cell, face collapsing onto the flour with a grunt from the male. He raised his head and brought his hand to soften the skin that hit the ground, as if that would help in any way. His eyes widened and his mouth was opened in shock. He looked round the cell in bewilderment as if just realising where he was. Andrew gave Wymack a look.

“Come on you three.” The superior said.

They then followed Wymack out.  
  
Grunting with the effort, Andrew put on his coat. “Hey, thanks for that.” Josten said. “This evening.”

“It’s nothing, I did it to see how Kevin would cooperate with alcohol.”

“But you let me tag along.”

 _“Needed_ a ride back home.”

“Could have been Walker.”

“Well it was awful.” Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose. “That woman, Tessa.”

“What about her?”

“Dated a ghost.” Andrew frowned. “The most bloody interesting case for months.”

He then walked out to the taxi Wymack had promised.

“Ruined!” He shouted back to the younger male. Josten only smiled in reply.

 

 

Upstairs in his apartment building, Andrew had an online news article on his laptop screen. He flicked through each site and researched on Boyd’s uncle, Major Sholto. Many read; _He destroyed us all. And he gets a medal for it?_ The others were because he was led to be a bad general.

Andrew looked towards the living room door when he heard someone trying to open the flat with struggle. Josten. He switched to a different tab on the laptop – the website the woman talked about. _I Dated A Ghost.com_. Good site, Andrew sometimes felt the same.

Josten came in and walked across to the dining table where Andrew was sitting. “There are going to be others.” Andrew said.

“Others?” Josten furrowed his eyebrows, dark splotches under them.

“Victims, women. Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house – this ghost, however, is willing to commute, look.” He stood up as they looked at a map of London spread out on the table behind the laptop. Andrew had stuck a pin in various places which indicated ghost date sightings.

All of them formed a circle. A rough circle spanning a few miles around the Thames.

Josten grinned at him. “Not ruined after all.”

 

  
They headed to the Council Chamber a few minutes after. The room had wood paneling on the walls and a blue carpet, banks of benches with leather covered seats forming a circle, all seat facing each other.  At the front of the room on top of a high dais, was a large bench – a judge’s bench.

Behind was a chair where the Chairman would sit. 

Andrew was standing in front of the closed door at the rear end of the room, and many women were standing silently in front of seats all around the room.

He walked down the steps towards the floor, looking around him as he went, then once he reached the bottom, he walked across towards the wall and turned to face the seats. There were at least forty-eight women standing around the room and Andrew raised his eyebrows. So this was how many woman dated ghosts. Andrew slowly scanned all of them, then pulled a thoughtful face and pointed towards one of the women to his right. “Not you.” He said.

The woman sat down.

He pointed to another woman on the right. “Nope.” She sat down as well.

He took a few steps forward and pointed another who sat down. Then to another, then to two. All only to sit down.

Eventually, four women remained standing. Those which Andrew hadn’t pointed out. He looked around the room once more, then walked over to the nearest standing women. She was wearing a black dress and looked rather elegant. “Gail.” She told him.

Andrew turned and walked to the next standing woman, who was wearing a denim jacket and had short auburn hair. “Charlotte.”

Another wearing wearing a pink jacket. Brown hair and a little older than the rest. “Robyn.”

He finally turned to the final standing woman, wearing a red dress and red leather jacket, holding her blond hair neatly into curls. “Vicky.” She winked.

The other women left and the remaining four stood in a semi circle surrounding Andrew. He looked to Gail. “How did you meet him?”

“Came up to me in a pub.” Gail said.

Andrew looked to Charlotte. “Same gym as me.” She shrugged.

“We just got chatting on the bus.” Robyn said.

“Online.” Vicky did a little jiggle with her boobs. Andrew’s lip twitched.

He turned back to Gail. “Name?”

She looked at him with a cold stare. “Already told you.”

Andrew sighed. “ _His_ name.”

She made a little _oh_ with her mouth and said, “Oscar.”

Once he looked to every other girl, they each said something different. Mike. Terry. Love_monkey. Vicky’s answer, blatantly.

“Your place?” He asked to no one in particular.

“His place.” They all simultaneously said.

“Address?” The four women simultaneously recite four different addresses.

Gail shrugged. “Nothing happened. It was just very romantic.”

Andrew started to pace around as all women stayed in their respectful spots. “Four women in four nights. He must have something special.”

Different answers came all the same. He was very charming. He listened. He was sweet. He had a lovely- Dammit Vicky.

Andrew looked to the bench in thought, realising Josten was laid against one, sleeping peacefully.

“Different names, different addresses.” Andrew mused. “Describe him.” He told each girl. Short blond hair, one said. Dark hair; long, another described.

“Ginger.” Robyn looked to Josten. “I like gingers.”

Josten wasn’t a ginger, Andrew frowned. Tough shit for her.

“Couldn’t tell.” Vicky answered. Andrew gave her a querying look. “He had a mask on.” She said in a laid-back way like it was nothing.

Andrew looked away, to his phone in hand and to the article site they all came from.

“He’s stealing the identity of corpses.” Josten whistled from the bench, not so sleeping after all. “Getting the names from the Obituary columns. All single men. He’s using the dead man’s flat under the assumption it’ll be empty for a while.” He raised his head. “Free love nest.”

Gail looked appalled. “I feel sick.” She said.

“Gruesome.”

“Awful.”

Vicky looked impressed. “Clever.”

“Bastard.” Andrew turned his head to the new voice. Only to see Tessa standing behind Charlotte and Robyn.

“Hello, Tessa.” Andrew said. She looked at him angrily. “Meanwhile, back to business. No one wants to use a dead man’s home.” Vicky shrugged as if she was not bothered herself. Andrew threw her a disapproving look. “Least not until it’s been cleared. So, he disguises himself, steals the man’s home, steals his identity.”

“But only for one night.” Josten said, eyes closed once more and seeming relaxed in his little spot. Andrew turned to look at him. “Then he’s gone.”

“He’s not a ghost, Josten. He’s a mayfly. He lives for a day.” He turned back to the women. “So – what was it he was looking for?”

The questions began again. “Job?”

Gardener. Cook. Private nurse. Security work. Vicky was a maid.

Andrew looked down for a brief moment, then raised his head. “You all work for the same person.” Then a sigh. “No, not the same employer.” He closed his eyes. He opened them again. “Ideal night out?”

Clay pigeon shooting. Line dancing. Pictures. Wine in front of the TV. Dungeon.

Andrew shook his head in disbelief at Vicky. He turned his head to the front and shut his eyes for a moment, then turned to the women again. “Make-up?”

Clarins. No. 7. Maybelline. Nothing special. Whatever’s cheap.

“Perfume?”

Chanel. Chanel. Chanel. Chanel. Andrew’s face lit up as he turned to Vicky. Estée Lauder.

Another fuck.

“Ideal man?”

George Clooney. Home-loving. He’d have to like cuddling. Caring. Vicky of course named ten things.

“There’s a unifying factor. There has to be.” Andrew frowned. “None of you reported anything stolen.” He looked down, then raised his eyes and pointed to the women one by one. “Security guard, gardener, cook, maid, private nurse. He’s romancing his way up a pecking order, somebody’s pecking order.” He closed his eyes in thought. “Come on, think.” He opened them. “Unless.”

“Do you have a secret you’ve never told anyone?”

“No.” They all said simultaneously.

“Got you.”

“What do you mean?” Gale asked.

“Everyone has secrets, and they all replied too quickly.” Josten told Andrew, confirming his idea.

Gale looked anxious. “Got to go.” She walked away. Then Charlotte left. Then Robyn.

“Wait.” Andrew called after them. Vicky winked.

“Sorry, sexy. Some secrets have to stay secret.” And then she was gone as well.

Tessa smiled softly at him. “Enjoy the wedding.”

Andrew made an exasperated sound as all victims were gone from the premises. “Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?”

“He’s a man that has cheated.” Josten told him.

“But why would he change his identity?” Andrew questioned. Josten shrugged on his seat, they took all of that time to gather the women for a meeting, yet had nothing out of it except that there was indeed a secret to it all. 

“Maybe he’s married.” Josten shrugged, hoping down from the bench and over to Andrew, getting ready to leave back home with nothing but that shared information.

Andrew slowly straightened up as if realising something. Oh, he thought. Interesting.

 

 

“Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity.” Andrew explained the story as Josten grimaced at the speech. Boyd widened his eyes briefly and Wilds smiled at him. He had obviously left out important parts of the story, and kept everything to only what the guests needed to hear, however not many were listening at this point. He didn't care, he was mainly refreshing his memory on what cases he had yet to solve, also being in a bet with Reynolds on whether or not he could keep a straight face and admit his defeat that he did not infact solve them. “And instead of endless nights in watching the TV or going to barbecues with awful dreadful boring people he couldn’t stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field” He finally took in a breath and smiled slightly. “He was-”

Andrew stopped when he trailed off, the guests looked silently back to him. He then looked to both Wilds and Boyd. “On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the Room." He said.

“Why are all the stories not involving Boyd anyways?”

“Because honestly I have no stories with Boyd other from the one that would ruin you all.” Andrew smirked.

Boyd laughed. “I don't mind, these stories are great.”

Reynolds slammed her hands on the table. “What elephant in the room?!” She wanted to know more about these cases it seemed. The only eager one.

Andrew sighed. “Fine, Wilds. I'll give you somethint about Boyd. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable Boyd is.” He winced at what he said and almost dropped his cue card. “I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special – quite frankly, I still do.” He looked sternly at the crowd. “Should any of you require the services of either of us, I _will_ solve your murder.” Then to Boyd. “But from now on, there’s a new story. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.”

He picked up his own glass while the guests did likewise and stood up. The photographer walked forward with his camera and took photos of them all. “Today begins the adventures of Danielle Leigh Wilds and Matthew Donovan Boyd.” The crowd cheered even more - the only energetic aura so far.

As the flash of the camera shown on them, Andrew froze. His fingers loosened slightly and his champagne glass slipped out of them and began to tumble towards the floor.

 

 

Then he was back in the Council Chamber inside his mind. He knew this time it wasn’t real, that this was his mind putting together back everything he had seen, everything he had heard, what he remembered. But he had to know. He had to think. What did he find interesting? He found something interesting, but what was it?

He raised his head and turned towards the five uniformed women who were once again in the room. Josten was no longer on his bench sleeping, he was gone. The only thing distinguishing this from reality.

Andrew pointed to one and only one of those women. Tessa.

She looked at him blankly, the fake Tessa staring at him as if she knew something Andrew did not. 

“What did you say?” He asked her. She didn’t respond, not likely to since this was his mind. “You said, Neil Abram Josten. You said that name specifically. You said the name _Abram_ when you introduced us to the landlord.” Andrew started to circle around Tessa, watching her every move. “How did you know? How did you know his middle name?” He walked backwards, still facing her. “He never tells anyone.”

Silence.

“There’s only one time that name’s been made public and that’s because Riko told it to the world, subtlety at it’s finest, but word never went out. He wanted to get back to Neil so he took the one thing he couldn't have anymore. Nobody made much of it, but this, it got onto the wedding reservation. After Josten found his home here, he didn’t let it bother him anymore but _how_ could you have possibly known it? How could you have known we were heading for a wedding?”

“ _Enjoy the wedding_.” Tessa said again, as if refreshing Andrew's mind on what she had said before she left. The words repeating into his brain like a loop. It all made sense.

“The wedding. You knew about the wedding, more importantly, you’d seen a wedding RSVP card. Now barely a hundred people had seen that invitation. The Mayfly Man only saw five women. For one person to be in both groups could be a coincidence.”

“Andrew.” Andrew turned around and he saw Aaron sitting on the Chairman’s chair. His mind had to bring Aaron into this, didn’t it? “What do we say about coincidence?” He mused.

“The universe is rarely so lazy.” Andrew told him.

“So, the balance of probability is?”

“Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding.” Andrew thought. His imaginative brother raised an eyebrow. Andrew stared at him intensively. “They lied, assumed false identities.”

“Which suggests?”

“Criminal intent.”

“Also suggests?”

“Intelligence, planning.”

“Clearly. But more importantly?”

“The Mayfly Man.”

“The Mayfly Man is here today.” Then Andrew was back at the reception and the glass smashed to the ground. As if none of the whole mind trick ever happened.

“Another glass, sir?” The waiter asked nervously.

Andrew took one with a blank expression.

 _Something is going to happen – right here._ Aaron’s voice echoed in Andrew’s mind.

Andrew grimaced and looked around, clearly thinking frantically and gazed at every guest.

“Now, where were we?” He tried to act normal even though people were looking at him from the drop of the glass.

_Could be any second._

Shut up, Aaron.

Betsy and Wymack looked a little anxious.

_You have control of the room._

“Ah, yes. Raising glasses and standing up. Very good.”

_Don’t lose it._

Andrew’s glass smashed on the floor at his feet again and he looked down to it. “And down again.”

Confused, the guests started to sit down, murmuring among themselves. Andrew looked at them for a moment, straightening up and putting on his serious face. Not caring if Boyd had wanted him to try and be mundane when presenting his speech. He had no care for these people. “Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech – get off early, leave them laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now part two.”

Andrew walked into the central aisle between the tables. “Part two is more action-based. I’m going to walk around, shake things up a bit. Most exercise I’ve done in weeks.”

He looked to each person as he walked past, mentally tagging each of the men as the mayfly man. One of them must have been the _actual_ one, somewhere here, somewhere in this room. He eliminated the younger children and raised an eyebrow at the rest. “Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding?” Two thirds of the way along the room he turned around. “Well everyone.” He clapped his hands once. “Weddings are great. Love a wedding.”

“What’s he doing?” Wilds asked Boyd.

Boyd looked to Andrew. “Something’s wrong.”

“And Boyd’s great, too. Haven’t said that enough. Barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his… hair.” Day closed his eyes in disbelief. Around the guests, Andrew was pacing and turning back and forth, peering at each of the male guests. “... and he can cook. Does a thing. Thing with his,” He quickly looked to each person. “Hair.”

Wilds and Boyd exchange a puzzled glance. Andrew continued to pace around the room, peering at the guests. “Might not be gel. Might not be him. But he’s got a great singing voice, or somebody does in the shower.”

Andrew sighed in frustration, his teeth clenched. Too many. Too fucking many people. It was becoming overwhelming. He stopped and took a breath.

 _Criminal intent._ Imaginative Aaron said into the void of nothing.

“Where was I? Ah, yes.” Andrew looked to Josten.

_Extraordinary lengths._

“A Speech.” He pointed towards him. “Let’s talk about…”

 _All of which is suggestive of?_ _  
_

“...murder.”

Josten looked to him with wide eyes. He knew something was up with Andrew, and knew there was a murderer in this very room by the way Andrew looked to him with intent to make the younger male acknowledge this. Boyd still looked confused, but saw the same - that something was indeed off. Wilds looked like she was going to strangle Andrew for ruining her wedding but a worried glance told him it was fine as long as it was solved. Wymack however, looked like he was struggling with a bottle of wine in hand coming to his mouth every few seconds Andrew spoke.

“Ah. Did I say murder? I meant to say marriage – but, you know, they’re quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it’s over when one of them’s dead.” Wilds sighed. “In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Nicky.”

A man looked up a little wide-eyed. Nicky Hemmick. He hadn't seen him in forever. Good riddance.

His eyes went to a random man. “What about this one? Acceptably hot?” Then he looked to the girl besides him. “More importantly, his girlfriend’s wearing brand-new uncomfortable underwear.” Then to the man. “And he hasn’t bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket, or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck. Currently, he’s going home alone. And he seems to have taken a fancy to you since you walked in. He's thirsty.”

Andrew now had his phone behind his own back, rapidly typing onto it with his thumb.

“Also, he’s a comics and sci-fi geek. They’re always tremendously grateful – really put the hours in.” He looked to Wymack. “Toilets.”

“Why?” Wymack’s phone beeped a text alert. He ignored it. Andrew sighed, trying to make him realise either the phone or the toilet code.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s your _turn_.” He jerked his head towards the door, grimacing. Wymack looked to his phone and his jaw fell open.

“Yeah, now you mention it...” He stood up. Andrew pocketed his own phone back in.

Josten understood their manner. “Andrew, any chance of a – an end date for this speech? I want to cut the cake. I'm hungry.” He announced to the guests.

While Wymack headed out of the door, Andrew smiled widely and went down the aisle, gesturing dramatically. “Okay. Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once.”

Josten straightened up in his chair. Boyd looked to Josten. “You’re on edge. Tell me it isn't-”

He tried to look fine. “Battle stations. Someone’s gonna die.” He whispered.

Wilds scoffed. “What?” A little too loud.

Andrew turned to look at the guests, distracting them from the three now talking between each other. One of them could be the Mayfly man. But who?

 _Narrow it down_. Aaron's voice told him.

Andrew grimaced, his eyes screwed tightly shut.

_Narrow it down._

Andrew blinked.

_Narrow.  It.  Down._

“Not you.” He said to his imaginary brother aloud, everyone looked to him confused. Aaron didn’t help, he made him angrier. He couldn’t concentrate when he was angry. He needed something else. Someone else.

He lifted his hand a little to point his finger towards the top table. Towards Josten. “You.” Josten looked to him, head slightly titled. “It’s always you. Neil Josten, you keep me right.”

The addressed man stood up as Andrew walked to the table, inches away from Josten's face. Josten whispered, “What should I do?”

“Well, you’ve already done it. You don't solve the murder. You save the life, fight the villain.” Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, he turned back towards the guests again with a manic grin on his face. “Okay, back to it.” He told them. He clapped his hands together and dropped a fake smile. “Let’s play a game.” He raised his eyes while lowering his head a little more, staring intensely out into the room. “Let’s play _Murder_.”

Behind him, Josten sat down again. Andrew prowled forward, his eyes flickering around the room.

“Andrew?” Betsy asked, worriedly.

Perfect. “Imagine someone’s going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?” Andrew asked her.

“I think you’re a popular choice at the moment, dear.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and ignored her comment. “If someone could move Bee’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?” He turned back to look at the guests and gave each one - both the men and the women - a glare. Any could be a target. Any could be a murderer. “Most people you can kill at any odd place. As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues.” He explained. “Now Boyd I’d poison.” Wilds nervously looked across to her husband. “Sloppy eater – dead easy. I would give him chemicals and compounds – that way, he would never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn’t have a clue so food would be a breeze.” He looked to Wymack. “Wymack, however, so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation.” He turned his head to Josten. “You trust me. I could easily break that and stab you in the back whenever I please.” Then to the room again with a wide grin. “I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house now – I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him.” He made strange gesture with his hands, then seemed to realise his mistake as he said all that out loud. “Only if the whim arose however. So, once again, who could you only kill here?” He looked around with intent. “Clearly it’s a rare opportunity, so it’s someone who doesn’t get out much.” Process of elimination. Andrew grinned wide. Probably more menacing. “Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity.” Silence. “And since killing someone in public is difficult…” He turned and his suspect list grew thin. “...killing them in private isn’t an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then.” He turned again and all the visible seats were now empty of suspects. “Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security.”

Only one person remained.

A man old enough to be stern. Broad shoulders and looking good for his age. Stiff and well postured. The only person who could possibly be a suspect.

Boyd’s uncle. Major Sholto.

“Possibly someone under threat.” Andrew concluded.

As if sensing Andrew’s gaze, Sholto turned to him. They looked into each other’s eyes for the longest moment. A man Andrew had never met but when his cold eyes stared back, he felt like he knew exactly who Sholto was.

Andrew remembered them all telling him the information he needed. All that he needed to solve the case.

 _People don’t think he’d be here_ , Wilds had said.

 _He lives out in the middle of nowhere_ , Boyd had told him.

 _The press and the families gave him hell. He gets more death threats than you_ , he remembered Boyd saying.

Andrew tried to act nonchalantly as he walked over to a nearby table and picked up one of the name cards on it while pulling a pen on a chain from his waistcoat. “A recluse, small household staff.” He remembered the Council Chamber. The jobs of all the women. Gardener, cook, private nurse, maid. “High turnover for additional security.” Even Robyn did security work.

Andrew walked over to Sholto’s table and casually dropping the name card down in front of him before walking away. “Probably all signed confidentiality agreements. There is another question that remains, however – a big one, a huge one, how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?” Sholto picked up the name card and looked at the writing on it as Andrew continued on his so-called speech. “There has to be a way. This has been planned.”

The little kid jumped in his seat. “Mr. Minyard! Mr. Minyard!”

Andrew looked to the child. “Oh, Archie. What’s your theory? Get this right and there’s a headless nun in it for you.”

“The invisible man could do it.”

“The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?”

“The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.”

Andrew straightened up, his eyes wide. Impressive little man, this Archie was.

Major Sholto got to his feet, picked up his ceremonial sword propped against a nearby window and turned to walk towards the door. Andrew turned his head away, closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them again. “Oh, not just planned. Planned and rehearsed.”

He turned and watched as Sholto reached the door and started to open it. Andrew turned back and headed quickly towards the top table, swiping someone’s champagne glass from a table as he went. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude.”

He skidded to a halt in front of the top table and turned as he help up the glass. “The bride and groom.” A little uncertainly this time, the guests stood up and raised their glasses.

“The bride and groom.” They all repeated.

Instantly Andrew turned back and bent down to Josten. “Major Sholto’s going to be murdered. I don’t know how or by whom, but it’s going to happen.”

He turned and started making his way through the guests who were now blocking the aisle. Boyd quickly turned and took Wild's head in one hand and kissed her. Andrew pushed through the crowd with Josten by his side.

Boyd hesitated for only a few seconds, jumped up and followed them both. “Stay there.” He called to Wilds who wanted to follow. “Take care of the guests.”

The other guests murmured and chattered to each other in confusion.

 

 

  
Downstairs, on a half-landing partway up the staircase, Andrew breathed in as he looked around the area, trying to recall what he remembered. Josten paced impatiently beside him. “How can you not remember which room? You remember everything.” Josten was telling him.

“I have to delete _some_ things, my mind is not fucking Wikipedia.”

Boyd ran around the corner and pelted up the stairs in between them, “Two zero seven.” He said hurriedly, knowing well more of the wedding plans and arrangements than the boys combined.

Reaching the second floor, Boyd knocked on the door of room 207 and tried the handle. “Uncle Sholto? Uncle Sholto!” Boyd shouted. He slammed the flat of his right hand repeatedly against the door.

“If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.” Sholto said on the other end.

Andrew walked towards the door. Boyd stepped back, shaking out his right hand and flexing the fingers. “Major, let us in.”

“Kick the door down.” Boyd said, preparing to do so.

“I really wouldn’t. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.” Sholto chuckled.

“You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him.” Andrew said.

“The invisible man with the invisible knife.” Sholto repeated.

“I don’t know how he does it, so I can’t stop him, and that means he’ll do it again.” The blond sighed.

“Solve it, then.” Sholto said sternly.

“I’m sorry?” Boyd choked out.

“He’s the famous Minyard. Solve the case. On you go.” Andrew straightened up, his eyes rapidly flickering from side to side. “Tell me how he did it and I’ll open the door.”

Josten stepped forward again. “This is no time for games. Just let us in. You’re in fucking danger.”

“So are you, so long as you’re here.” Sholto said. Boyd watched Andrew as he paced back and forth across the landing.

Sholto sighed. “Leave me. Despite my reputation, I really don’t approve of collateral damage.”

“Solve it.” Boyd pointed a finger to Andrew angrily. The latter stopped and looked to him. He had never seen that expression on Boyd before, it was new. “Solve it, and he’ll open the door, like he said.”

“If I couldn’t solve it before, how can I solve it now?” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Because it matters now.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s right.” Josten said as Andrew frowned. “You are not a puzzle solver – you never have been. You’re a drama queen.”

“Now, there is a man in there about to die.” Boyd added. “My _uncle_. So solve it.”

Andrew bared his teeth at him, then shut his eyes in concentration. It had to be something.

He pictured everything that could work in the scenario.

He pictured Bainbridge and he pictured Sholto.

It had to be connected.

What connected between the two of them?

They both served something. One a country, one a Queen.

No.

What else did they have?

They both were male.

They both could keep a cold stare.

They both had a uniform.

They both were going to die.

A uniform.

He could picture Private Bainbridge in his own at Her Majesty's Household.

He could picture Major Sholto in his dress uniform for the wedding. This very wedding...

The uniform, it had to be on the uniform. Stabbed from behind, in the shower, uniform. What tied the connections? What was tied to uniforms? What tied... the uniforms together...?

And then it hit Andrew. He stepped over to Boyd, looking to him, then nudged his head towards Josten. “Though, in fairness, he’s a drama queen too.”

“Yeah, we know.” Boyd smiled.

Josten frowned in return.

Andrew went over to the door and spoke loudly. “Major Sholto, no one is coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.”

“What did you say?” Sholto asked, more a question out of shock and bewilderment than to rephrase what Andrew had said.

“Don’t take off your belt.”

“My belt?”

Turning around, Andrew looked to the other two. “His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt. Tight belt, worn high on the waist. What kept the uniforms together. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn’t even feel it.” Josten was nodding in understanding as Boyd looked to the door in worry.

“The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight.” Josten confirmed.

“Exactly.”

“And when he took it off...”

“Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi.”

Boyd shook the door handle. “Uncle Sholto?” He panicked.

“So. I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate.” Sholto said.

“He solved the case, Major. You’re supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal.” Josten said.

“I’m not even supposed to have this any more. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn’t imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose – given the circumstances - I don’t have to.” Sholto scoffed. “When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue.”

Boyd flinched when he heard the belt unclick. “Whatever you’re doing in there, James, stop it, right now. I will kick this door down.” Boyd choked.

“Minyard, you and I are similar, I think.” They could hear the smile in Sholto's words.

“Yes, I think we are.”

“Well. There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?”

“Of course there is.”

“And one should embrace it when it comes – like a soldier.”

“Of course one should, but not at Boyd’s wedding.” He said sternly. “We wouldn’t do that, would we – you and me? We would never do that to Matthew Boyd.”

Sholto seemed to have stayed quiet for a while. All boys feared the worst.

Andrew stepped away from the door as Josten walked closer, leaning forward and listening for any sound from the room. He straightened up and took off his loaned tuxedo jacket.

“I’m gonna break it down.” He said.

“No, wait, wait, you won’t have to.” Boyd stopped him just as the door opened. Sholto glanced briefly at Andrew, then lowered his eyes before looking at Boyd.

“I believe I am in need of medical attention.”

 

 

In the foyer of the wedding venue, Neil sighed as he observed the small little serviette in the form of the Opera House in hand, and wondered what kind of insane individual would craft hundreds of these for each guest.

They had just helped Sholto, bringing him to the nearbye hospital as the guests wondered around the hotel in wonder of how this would all plan out. Word got around, however, everyone was fairly calm about the situation.

So Neil waited till everyone was sorted out, that Sholto was okay and that he could get some mind of his own in the small foyer alone.

However he was startled by a new figure sitting next to him and found Andrew Minyard, unsurprisingly.

“Are you having fun being the unsocial outcast?” He asked, Neil smiled as he put back the serviette, keeping his focus onto the blond individual besides him.

“You seemed like you had fun when you were boring those guests to death. Never expected you to be a talker.”

Andrew huffed what could be a laugh. They stayed quiet for a moment, a comfortable silence both knew too well and were happy to have learned.

Looking to the empty space before him, where the music from the other room could be heard in the distance between the closed door, Neil thought of something he might as well risk asking. He broke the silence to look at Andrew once more. “Hey, Andrew?” Andrew looked to him in question, wondering what could have been on the man's mind. “Want to dance?” Neil finally asked.

“No.” Minyard said flatly.

“A shame.” Neil smiled, knowing well this would have probably been the answer. “What would it take?”

“What would what take?”

“For you to have fun. To dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Not what Betsy said.”

“Bloody knew she would say something.” Minyard looked to Neil and they both kept it to that. Until Minyard sighed and cringed at what he said next. “One condition.” 

Neil hummed. Anything.

“Show me your scars.”

Well, never mind. _That_ was unexpected. “I-”

“Guess you don’t want to dance, then.” Neil looked to Minyard's eyes once more, so Minyard confirmed something that Neil was not quite yet used to. “Nothing will be forced out of you, Neil.”

Trust.

Neil sighed, knowing well he would want to show Andrew at some point. That from all this time of knowing what had happened under clothing, he had never once asked for it. Not until the time mattered, not until they both had the trust between one another to show each other their vulnerabilities, their stories, their hidden thoughts, anything they would have never told anybody else. But they had it, they had that trust that they tried to keep from others. They had it in the palm of their hands and both boys would never let go of it until the end of their time. “Fine.” Neil agreed, knowing well he meant it to his core. That he wouldn't keep it from Minyard, that he wouldn't hide anything anymore. “Not now, of course. But... later.” He closed his eyes and once he opened them back up again, Minyard held out his hand, showing it to Neil.

“Yes or no?” He asked, not so for the hand but for the dance in itself that would mean closeness, that would mean touching and would mean to leash out that trust.

“Yeah.” Neil took the hand, smiling wide. “I do not know how to dance, however.” Minyard looked at him with utter disbelief but guided him through the floor.

“Then why did you ask me?” Minyard put his hand over Neil's waist, the other still holding Neil's own. Neil slowly put his hand over the spot he knew Minyard had let him touch, behind the neck which ghosted over his hair.

Minyard frowned as Neil had shown that same trust over boundaries, that he had still cared for Minyard's mental state. That he wouldn't let a simple dance objectify that rule.

“Because I want it to be with you.” Neil smiled.

They waltzed into the sound of distant classical music - a violin tempo and beautiful chords to which sounded all too familiar. Minyard guided Neil’s footwork every step they took. “Pretty good for a junkie. Just hold your nerve on your turning.”

“Not bad for… you.” Neil retaliated.

“That wasn't so an insult.” Minyard told him and Neil couldn't help but smile even further.

“I know.” Neil said as he followed Minyard through the song. “Well, you’re a good teacher.”

“And you have horrid dancing skills.”

“Because dancing was a prime key in the arts of running away.”

Minyard let him go. “Done for today, it seems. I told you, I don't dance.”

“Are you not going to talk with the soon-to-be married?” Neil asked him as they made comfort in the middle of the empty room, chairs played for them to wait on. 

The music finally died off in their ears. It was still playing, they had just tuned it out. The lights were dim in the room and Neil didn't so want to leave with them just yet. He wanted to soak in this moment for a little more, because tomorrow wouldn't be much talking. It would be where the vows would be made between Boyd and Wilds, where they would become one until the very end of their days, and go off on their honeymoon and simply be happy with one another.

“Could ask you the same.” Minyard told him.

“Well I actually have an answer.” Neil smirked without so looking at the blond. Yet he could tell Minyard was looking at him. “I don't want this feeling to end.” Minyard stayed quiet for a while until Neil turned to actually look at him. “You think you know everything, and you might as well do. You say this is nothing, Andrew. That you want nothing of it, that you think I do not want this. Yet you fail to realise that I _am_ nothing. Yet I think of you as everything. Everything I had never thought to have earned in my life, something that I had never thought of wanting to come back to. Something that completes me. But for once I want to stay, for once I want to be with you.”

Andrew frowned at Neil. “I hate you.” He told him.

“You like me.”

“Only 5% of the time.”

“And here I thought it was 6.”

“With you, I'm surprised it's not a hundred.”

“But that doesn't stop this from being nothing, Andrew.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil leaned closer. “It’s always a yes with you.”

“Until it isn’t.”

Minyard stepped in the distance and their mouths snapped together. It was softer than usual, less heated and more of a calm touch of lips. To show that both boys did not need the lust between each other, a hint that there could be something more to their relationship. Minyard was soft, slow and it was all Neil ever wanted, what he would allow himself to have. Tongue met tongue, and Neil hummed into the kiss.

Then they pulled apart when they recognised the distinctive sound of the doors of the room opening.

“Well, glad to see you two have pulled.” Boyd told them as he entered the room, smiling wide at the boys. They thought for a moment that Boyd had seen everything unravel yet he had clarified what he had meant seconds afterwards, “What with murderers running riot at my wedding, you know?”

"Yeah, that." Josten mumbled.

“One murder – _nearly_ one murderer.” Minyard corrected.

Then Wymack came in as well, from right behind Boyd. “Andrew?” He caught the attention of the blond, pointing behind with. “Got the man for you.”

Neil looked to Minyard.

Got who?

Minyard gave him a smug look when the wedding photographer walked in, right where Wymack had pointed from. “Ah, the photographer.” Minyard walked over to the guy and pointed at the camera he was holding. “May I have a look at your camera?”

The man pulled his camera back nervously, however once seeing the threatening gaze Minyard was giving, he couldn't help but give in. “What’s this about? I was halfway home.” He complained.

“You should have driven faster.” Minyard took the camera, then looked to the screen, flicking through each photograph. 

“What is? You gonna tell us?” Wymack asked.

“Try looking yourself.” He gave the object to Wymack who flicked through the many slides. Neil leaned over his shoulder to see the photographs himself. Many guests in each photograph, many of Boyd and Wilds, even some of the Minyard and Neil.

“Is the murderer in these photographs?” Neil asked.

“It’s not what’s in the photographs, it’s what’s not in them – not in any of them.”

“Andrew? The showing-off thing, we’ve discussed it before.” Neil sighed. 

Minyard rolled his eyes. “There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even see his face.” Minyard walked closer to the photographer. “You only ever see the camera.” Minyard rapidly slapped one cuff of the handcuffs around the photographer’s wrists and the other cuff around the frame of a nearby luggage trolley.

“What are you doing? What is this?” The man squeaked.

Minyard held up his phone to show the screen to the others. “Jonathan Small, today’s substitute wedding photographer – known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto’s staff, found what he needed an invitation to a wedding – the one time Sholto would have to be out in public. So, he made his plan and rehearsed the murder making sure of every last detail.”

Small blinked in surprise and then grinned.

“Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac – shame, his photographs are actually decent.” Minyard tossed the phone the Wymack. “Everything you need is on that. You probably ought to arrest him or something.”

Nearby, Wilds came into view, apparently looking for Boyd. She spotted him, smiled and hurried towards him, giving him a quick peck to the lips and a hug. Neil, standing beside Minyard, leaned closer and spoke quietly without looking. “Do you always carry handcuffs? Is that a detective thing?”

“Down, boy.” Minyard warned. Neil frowned at the say but the corner of his lips folded slightly upwards.

Wilds reached Minyard's side, silently thanking him. Then she turned and glared at Small. However, his eyes were glued to Andrew with a manic smile. “It’s not me you should be arresting, Minyard.” He said.

“Oh, I don’t do the arresting.” Minyard huffed.

“Sholto – he’s the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker. More brutal, and then perhaps ended with you.” Small laughed. Then a frown, angry and rough. “I shouldn’t have tried to be clever.”

“You should have driven faster.” Minyard told him, sounding bored and waved a hand up as if to let Wymack take him away.

Wymack looked down to the phone, then at Small. “Right.”

 

 

In the reception room, the tables had been cleared away for slow dancing the night away, one to which Neil and Minyard had finally bothered to show up to - dreading this part out of the whole wedding.

Looking into each other’s eyes, Boyd and Wilds were dancing a slow waltz in the middle of the room to the sound of a single violin while all the guests stood around the edge of the room to watch them. 

Every guest seemed to be relaxed, away, or dancing in the small crowd in the middle of the room, eating the resting food or talking among themselves. Specifically Day and Aaron who had bonded slightly over the hatred of others. It wasn't much people in the room overall, a few couples at most and even then it was mainly the foxes mustering as much fun as they could have in the next hour that was left of the Boyd-Wilds wedding. Having only the official business tomorrow, then not seeing the weds for a while.

Neil was tired from the day, and slightly happy from what had happened. He had remembered many moments when Minyard had explained the stories, smiling to himself when he left out their small bonding moments. He never even expected the blond to have talked so much in the year he had known him. It was something.

They had celebrated their friends wedding, a new joy for them. A new beginning, even if it didn't entirely involve Neil, he was just happy to be there. To be associated with people like the newly weds. He had spent weeks being dragged to organise the wedding, to help Boyd through his panic of not knowing what to do, and Day's constant bickering of the work load he had at the Foxhole Court. Everything may have seemed new to Neil, or rather different and stressful, but he liked it.

It felt like the home he never got to experience.

During the dance, Boyd dipped Wilds who gasped near the end of the song. They both chuckled and seemed to be having fun. He kissed her as the tune ends.

The guests that had stayed, broke into applause and some of them even cheered - Reynolds louder than most. Everyone was looking at the happy couple in awe.

Perhaps Neil did as well.

 

 

It was time for the final words of the best man, and Andrew was not happy for it.

He tried to grab attention of everyone, coughing once every eye was onto him once more. The tired folks went to their hotel rooms, the drunk ones were zoned out, not many stayed.

Even so, the resting eyes rolled over so far in their brains, Andrew hoped caused an aneurysm for each and everyone one of them. They seemed done by Andrew's speeches today and perhaps ever again, Andrew at least felt the same way. “Ladies and gentlemen, just one last thing before the evening begins properly. Earlier, a crisis arose and was dealt with.” Andrew drew in a breath, trying to hide any emotion as much as he could. He stayed sane. “More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I’ve never made a vow in my life, and after tonight I never will again. It was boring. So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow. Boyd and Wilds, whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always, for all three of you.” He hesitated momentarily. “I mean two of you. All two of you. Both of you, in fact. Anyway, it’s time for dancing.” Andrew concluded and he will bring death upon Boyd for even considering him as the best man as he literally had the worst time of his life in front of all these people.

He walked down off the stage, still gesturing to the crowd to move on and do whatever the fuck they were doing before. The guests started to move onto the floor and began dancing - having fun, finishing off the day with how little of them were left.

Andrew then walked over to the bride and groom. “That was one more deduction than I was really not expecting.” He told them.

“Deduction?” Wilds asked

Andrew looked at her sternly. “Increased appetite. Change of taste perception. And you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there.”

“The signs?”

Andrew glanced across to Boyd, then turned his eyes back to her. “The signs of three.” His gaze dropped to her abdomen.

“What?”

“Dan, I think you should do a pregnancy test.” Andrew told her.

Wilds turned to Boyd. “How did he notice before me?”

“I don’t know, it’s your day off.”

“Well today is _your_ day off.” Wilds scoffed.

“Stop panicking, you two.” Andrew huffed.

“I’m not panicking.”

“I’m pregnant – I’m panicking.”

“Don’t panic. None of you panic.”

“I want to name it Neil.”

“We’re not naming the child fucking Neil.” Wilds hit Boyd lightly. “But if it's a girl, I say Renee.”

“Allison would kill you. And why can't we call it Neil but can call it Renee.?

"It's not an _it_." Wilds told him.

“Okay fine, Andrew, Is it a boy or a girl?”

Andrew was wordless.

They all paused for a second as Andrew didn't response, then slight screams came out of the two newlyweds. Boyd laughed and reached out and hugged Wilds. Then turned back to Andrew, smiling joyfully. They all looked at each other for a long moment, Andrew coughed. “Go dance.” He told them.

“Huh?” Andrew rolled his eyes at Boyd’s confusion.

“Both of you, now, go dance. We can’t just stand here. Guests will wonder what we’re talking about. People talk.”

“Right.” Boyd reached out to grab Wild’s hand but his eyes stayed on Andrew’s. “And what about you?”

“Well, we can’t all three dance.” Wilds raised an eyebrow. Boyd smirked when looking over Andrew's shoulder to a certain boy sitting alone on a chair, watching people dance in his own little world. Andrew frowned, clearing his throat and looked back to Wilds sternly.

“Come on, wife. Let’s go dance.” Boyd smiled and ushered her way.

“This isn’t a waltz, is it?” He laughed at her question but soon they were away from Andrew and having their own fun. They both held smiles and seemed happy enough that Andrew felt a tingle inside him to cherish the day. He was glad.

Yet, he now looked very lost and alone in the middle of the crowd. After a few moments, however, a tap came on his shoulder.

“Andrew!” Nicky Hemmick smiled wide. Oh for fuck's sake, he prefered the lost and alone introverted moment better. “I haven’t seen you since college! How have you been? You fucking missed my wedding, you dunce. Anyways, how’s Aaron? Talk to him much? Heard you have a new accomplice, ooh, scandalous. Is it Roland? No, the others. I don’t know. This is what happens when you lose contact for three years.” He whined.

Andrew groaned. “Hello to you too, Nicky.”

“That’s all you’ll give me?” He pouted. “Fine, whatever. Same as always I see. Your speech on the other hand, you grew passionate. Never seen you so sentimental. I cried. Literally cried.”

“Just go away.” Andrew rolled his eyes. He didn’t need this now.

“Never.”

Andrew brought a hand over his face when Josten took this specific time to come over. Nicky looked ecstatic, and probably would go on and on to Andrew for the next remaining days. “Who the bloody hell are _you_?” He smiled wide.

Josten regretted everything and backed away slowly.

"No, come back!" Nicky whined. "Hey! Just tell me your name at least!"

“Neil.” Josten told him, wary of the taller, more flamboyant male.

“Neil O'Neill.” Nicky mused at the name. “Pleasure to meet you. Andrew, he has to go on the list.”

“What list?” Josten furrowed his eyebrows.

“List of people Erik would let me canoodle. If know what I mean.” He winked.

“Who are you, again?” Josten asked, confused.

"Nicky, no." Andrew warned.

Nicky rolled his eyes. “Nicky Hemmick. Andrew’s cousin.” Josten raised an eyebrow to that. Oh, how Andrew would slap those off his face one day. “Are _you_ the accomplice? I am so fucking glad I took a flight here to see this. I may cry again. Tissues. Anywhere. I need tissues.” He feigned a sniff.

Josten looked confused. Nicky then rambled on for hours without letting the shorter males go.

 

 

It was night, everyone went back home or to their hotel rooms and apparently Wilds and Boyd decided that Neil and Andrew were to sleep together in one room. Neil breathed in and looked to the bed. "I can sleep on the floor." He told him.

“No, it's fine.” Minyard said, already getting ready for sleep. He was too tired for this.

Neil sucked in a breath. This seemed like the right time. "I promised you something." He told Minyard and started to take off his shirt. Minyard seemed like he forgot what Neil had promised for a few seconds and simply stared at Neil in confusion, however remember a second later in relief. The scars. The scars from his childhood which were scattered around his torso, his arms and back. His face was a smaller in wounds as his whole body was. Years and years of endurance had led his body to look like that.

Minyard's mouth was slightly open to the new bumps, new curves and lines, new burns, all along Neil's body. He reached to touch them, but didn't dare do so without asking, “Can I?”

Neil nodded and looked away as Andrew skimmed over the bullet hole wound, the iron print, the scraps and slashes of knives, the burns of dash board lighters and the outcome of a heavy cleavers. “Was this your father?”

“Yes. Mostly. Lola did some of them, others were simply being in the wrong scene at the wrong time. Some even from my mother. But yeah, most are from my father.”

Minyard nodded then tossed him his shirt back. Neil caught it, and put it back on to sleep in.

Andrew went to one side of the bed and Neil carefully went to the next.

They slept throughout the night, and perhaps they both had less nightmares than they usually would. Perhaps being in close proximity was best for them, that they would slowly start to feel closer enough to simply be in ones presence without scaring off another. Or perhaps, without causing a panic to form inside their minds and body from their childhood traumas, their shared scars, their way of living and the trust they never thought they could have.

And perhaps they slept better like this than either would have alone. Perhaps their bond would grow closer from here on out and they'd finally learn what it felt like to be alive for once, and feel like they'd want to continue living as long as it meant being with each other.


	9. Case 9: His Last Vow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 3 Season 3 of Sherlock  
> Content Warnings; Mentions of past abuse, rape and sexual assault. Case itself deals with murders obviously, hospitalization, a non-tfc asshole, near-death experiences and hallucinations.

“Mr. Magnussen, please state your full name for the record.” A man looked up to a woman in her early sixties, sitting on another table a distance away. She was sternly looking into his eyes, trying to figure out what he meant for the world, what he was hiding and what he was going to do. With his glasses off, Magnussen’s view of her was blurry, however that did not distract him from the task at hand.

“Charles Augustus Magnussen.” He said in a thick danish accent. He looked around the room. Compared to the others, he was sitting alone at his table. Eleven of them sitting around him in larger tables than his own. Each had a microphone on a stand in front of them, and the session was being filmed and projected onto a screen behind the elder woman in the centre.

“Mr Magnussen, how would you describe your influence over the Prime Minister?” She asked.

“The British Prime Minister?”

“Any of the British Prime Ministers you have known.”

“I never had the slightest influence over any of them. Why would I?”

The woman looked through a report on the table in front of her. “I notice you’ve had seven meetings at Downing Street this year.” Then looked up to him. “Why?”

“Because I was invited.”

“Can you recall the subjects under discussion?”

“Not without being more discreet than I believe is appropriate.”

A man to the right of the elder woman leaned forward to his microphone. “Do you think it right that a newspaper proprietor, a private individual and, in fact, a foreign national should have such regular access to our Prime Minister?” While he spoke, Magnussen picked up his glasses from the table and put them on. As soon as the man came into focus, information appeared in front of Magnussen’s eyes in a white font.

_John Garvie_

_MP Rockwell South_

_Adulterer_

_Reformed alcoholic_

_Porn preference: Normal_

_Finances: 41% debt_

_Status: Unimportant_

_Pressure point: Disabled daughter._

"I don’t think it’s wrong that a private individual should accept an invitation." Magnussedn smiled. "However, you have my sincere apologies for being foreign.” 

Garvie frowned. “That’s not what I meant. That is not in any way-”

“Mr Magnussen, can you recall an occasion when your remarks could have influenced government policy or the Prime Minister’s thinking in any way?” The elder woman asked.

Magnussen had turned his gaze to her and information immediately appeared in front of his eyes once more.

_Lady Thea Muldani_

_Single_

_Solvent_

_Former Exy Player_

_Porn preference: None_

_Vices: None_

_Pressure point: Searching_

Magnussen took off his glasses and reached for a small cloth on the table. “No.” He answered her.

“Are you sure?”

Magnussen paused while he cleaned the lenses on his glasses and then put them on again. He looked at Thea and the information reappeared in front of his eyes.

_Pressure point: Exy Captain_

“I have an excellent memory.” He smiled at her.

 

 

The meeting finished shortly after the interrogation which did nothing in the end. No information was taken, no information was given. It was as if they were there for a passive-aggressive tea party.

Thea was sitting at a table in a room which had several other tables and chairs scattered around her. Almost all the attendants were gone from the room. That is, until she looked at who stayed. Leaning into another chair, Thea saw Magnussen some feet away from the table. She put her papers down immediately and looked across to him as he stood up and walked towards her.  “May I join you?” He asked.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“It isn’t.” He agreed but goes over to a wheeled chair next to her and rolled around until it faced her.

Thea sighed. “Mr Magnussen, outside the enquiry we can have no contact, no communication at all.” Once Magnussen rolled close enough to touch her, he reached out and grasped her hand. Thea flinched at the touch. “Please don’t do that.”

“When you were an Exy star, you played alongside Riko Moriyama, correct?” He said.

She sucked in a breath. “That was before I quit.”

“The treatments were lively, loving – some would say explicit – and currently in my possession. Everything on what you have done with that specific Exy team.”

“Will you please move your hand?” She looked at him sternly.

“You'd burn down with them.” He quoted from memory.

“It was in the past, and I do not condone their behaviours anymore. I earned my way out.” She tried to release her hands but Magnussen kept a firm grip.

“You were fifteen.” He smirked.

“It's been many years.”

“But when you say you earned your way out? You do mean that literally. What pieces have you told to the Moriyamas? What parts of your soul?” Thea shivered. “I know just about everything on them, and on you.” Then his lips smacked together. “Yum.”

“I am free, and I an independent woman who now owns a large portion of the government. Anything having to do with the Moriyamas does not consist of me, unless it is putting them behind bars.”

“And I can make sure that never happens. You can never changes history, my dear. ”

“Your hand is sweating.” She noted.

“Always, I’m afraid. I have a condition.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Ah, but I’m used to it.” He stroked his finger across the top of her hand. “The whole world is wet to my touch.”

“I will call someone. I will have you removed.” She stammered. She tried to withdraw her hand again, but his fingers stayed stiff to hers.

“What is that?” He gently lifted her hand, turned it over and brought it to his face, sniffing it in delight. “Claire de la Lune? A bit young for you, isn’t it?” She pulled her hand free and flailed towards him but he seized her arm and held it still. “You want to hit me now? Could you, still? You’re not a player anymore. People would go ape shit in this society if someone like you hit a privileged man like me. Perhaps you should settle for calling someone.”

She had never been more offended and scared in her life. Riko Moriyama did many things, and Charles Magnussen was just about the same, however much different in his approaches. She tugged her hand free and this time he released it.

“Well? Go on.” He said.

Thea narrowed her eyes. She couldn't. She couldn't lose what she had because of a racist fucking asshole.

“No? Because now there are consequences. I have ways to get what I want, and therefore I have you.”

“This is blackmail.”

“Of course it isn’t blackmail. This is ownership.”

She turned to glare at him. “You do not own me.”

An attendant walked across the room towards them but stopped some distance away. Magnussen’s eyes turned briefly as if hearing his footsteps. Yet he took no interest of him. Instead, he leaned towards Thea, stuck out his tongue and ran it along her face. She cringed and closed her eyes. Grinning at the satisfying enough reaction for him, he sat back down, picking up a napkin and rubbed it over his tongue. “Claire de la Lune. It never tastes like it smells, does it?”

Thea stared ahead of herself. Magnussen put the napkin down, gave her one last look and then walked away. He looked to the attendant and tilted his head. “See to it.” He said.

“Yes, Mr. Magnussen.” The attendant stammered away as they both went out of the room.

Thea lowered her head and let out a shuddering breath.

Later, she sat in the back of her car and opened a compact mirror, pressing her shaky fingers next to the spot where Magnussen licked her face. Her chauffeur looked in his rear view mirror at her. “You alright, madam?”

“Fine, yes.” She lowered her fingers and looked at herself. “Magnussen.” She furiously snapped the compact closed. She spoke in a way that could not be heard by the chauffeur but loud enough so her thoughts could flow smoother. “No one stands up to him. No one dares. No one even tries. There isn’t a man or woman in England capable of stopping that disgusting creature.” She stopped and stared out the window for a moment.

“Madam?” The chauffeur looked concerned.

“Turn the car around.” She spoke louder for the man to hear. “We’re going back into town. Turn around.”

The chauffeur spun the steering wheel into a full rotation and they drove back the way they came. “Where are we going, madam?”

She took in a breath. “Baker Street.”

 

Neil Josten was abruptly woken by a banging sound coming from the front door. He waited a while, thinking if he just let it be, they’d think he wasn’t here. But the banging continued on for a couple more minutes and he groaned.

Half asleep, Neil threw back the covers of Minyard’s bed. He opened the door and saw a woman standing there looking back at him. She had clearly been crying for some time.

“I know it’s early.” She started to cry. “Really, I’m sorry.”

Neil stared at her a little blankly. However things became more clear the moment Kevin Day came into view at the end of the outside hall. “She said she knew Katelyn, and that Katelyn told her to see you.”

Fucking Day.

“And who are you?” Neil asked of her.

“I’m Melissa. Former Vixen.” Vixen of what? Minyard’s former college?

“Why do you need help?” Neil asked instead, rather eager to get to the point on why she or Day were here.

“It’s Isaac.”

How was Neil supposed to know who the fuck Isaac was? “Husband?”

“Son.”

“Son, sure. What the fuck do you need?”

“He’s gone missing again. Didn’t come home last night.”

“The usual.” Day let out. Neil stared at him, confused. How did he know? “Oh. I mean, he’s the one on drugs. Have his file and all.” Melissa broke down in tears again. Nicely put Day, Melissa's crying again. Day started to pace back and forth. He didn’t know what to do. Well, what coincidence because Neil didn’t know either. And if he couldn’t even find Andrew let alone his will to live anymore, how the fuck is he supposed to find Isaac?

“Look, is it Andrew Minyard you want?" Neil asked, hoping his act of concern was working for her. "I haven’t not seen him in days.”

“A couple weeks to be precise. Know your math.” Day scolded.

“Good job, Day. You passed grade 1.” Neil rolled his eyes.

“Who’s Andrew Minyard?” Melissa asked. Neil raised an eyebrow. Didn’t she come from Katelyn? Wouldn’t that mean she wanted Minyard? Oh boy, what was happening? “There’s a place they all go to. Him and his,” She paused. “Friends.” She wiped a tear from her face. “They all do whatever they do. Shoot up, or whatever you call it. Blaze forty.”

Day stared into space, trying not to laugh. Neil asked, “Where is he?”

“It’s a house. It’s a dump. I mean, it’s practically falling down.” Melissa said.

“No, the address.” Neil was not having it this early in the morning. Day looked to him, surprised. “Where, exactly?”

Shortly afterwards Neil was dressed and walking down the path outside the house, heading towards Minyard’s parked car. Day followed him with an angry expression. Also known as the constipated look which Day was working well. “What do you think you are doing?”

“Going to the house of drug addicts and hobos.” Neil said like he didn't know why Day was confused, like he wasn't affected at all. But Neil was slightly angry with both Day and Minyard. One for being an idiot, the other for just not being here.

“Seriously?” Day looked to Neil like he grew an extra leg. At this point, Neil hoped that was the case. They both hopped into the car, buckling up.

“Why not? It’s what Minyard would do, and Melissa does not look like she’s going to the police with this. Someone’s got to get them both.”

“Why you?”

“I have to be independent at some point.”

“Since when?”

“Since this exact minute.”

“Why are you being so-”

“Shut up, Kevin.” Neil smiled and drove away to the house with Kevin pouting silently in the passengers seat.

Later, they had parked outside the address Melissa gave to them. Neil opened the trunk of the car and took out something, then walked to the house. Kevin pointed to the object. “What’s that?”

“It’s a crowbar.”

“Why exactly do you have a crowbar?”

“Did you never learn to defend yourself or what? Smack people in the head if they get too close. Best procedure.” Day looked appalled. “Listen, Kevin, do you want to be apart of this or not. Because I’m _this_ close to kicking you out.”

“But you’re fingers are touching.”

“Exactly. Shut up and stay here. Guard the car.” Kevin wanted to protest but Neil patted his back. “Good boy.”

Neil walked across to the front door of the house, which had many keep out signs stuck around it. The door opened as soon as Neil stepped foot on the steps, and a young man wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up over his head stood in front of him. A few feet taller than Neil. He looked scruffy and dirty and high. “What do you want?” He asked. Neil looked back to Kevin - who was thankfully staying in the car - then pushed his way in. The man looked outside for a moment then whipped his head towards Neil who was looking around the place. “No. No. You can’t come in here!”

“I’m looking for a friend.” Neil continued on, looking into each doorways as he went. “A very specific friend – I’m not just browsing.” The house was pretty much broken, rusted down and dusty. Cobwebs everywhere and loose wooden planks falling loose on the ceiling and even holes in every platform.

Reaching the last room, he looked in to find someone who could possibly be Isaac and started walking back again to meet the drug homeless man once more. “You’ve gotta go. No one’s allowed here.” He said immediately spotting Neil again.

“Isaac Whitney. You seen him?”

The man took a flick-knife from his pocket and snapped the blade open, holding it towards Neil. Neil sighed. “I’m asking you if you’ve seen Isaac Whitney, and now you’re showing me a knife. Is it a clue?”

Hobo-looking fella gestured towards the open door behind him with his knife.

“Are you doing a mime?” Neil furrowed his eyebrows.

‘Go. Or I’ll cut you.”

“Ouch. Not from there.” Neil looked at his foot placements. “Let me help.” He walked towards him, stopping close enough to Hobo so that he could stab him if he wanted to. “There. Now you can stab me if you want without a mile distance separating us both.” Hobo stared back at him wide-eyed. Neil then dropped his neutral facade and gave the man a serious look. “Isaac Whitney. Where is he?”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Hobo said and Neil sighed. Did nobody know how to cooperate?

Before Hobo could even think about moving, the man cried out in pain as Neil wrapped his hand around Hobo’s neck and slammed him against the wall, then used his foot to trip Hobo onto the floor, crashing him onto his right arm. The man groaned. Neil bent down, picking up the fallen flick-knife and squatted next to Hobo. He sighed in disappointment at the body. “Right, what's your name?”

“Bill.” He choked out.

“Okay, Bill. I’ll ask you again. Are you concentrating yet?”

“You broke my fucking arm.”

“No, I sprained it.” Neil looked around.

“It feels squishy. Is it supposed to feel squishy?” He flipped onto his back and reached out his arm in front of Neil. “Feel it.”

Neil poked it. “Yeah. Sprained.” Bill winced in pain. “Now where is Isaac Whitney?”

“I don’t know!” Neil gave him a look. “Okay. Maybe upstairs.”

“There you go." He patted Bill’s leg. “Wasn’t that easy?”

Then Neil walked up the stairs as Bill mumbled grumpily in the distance.

At the top of the stairs, held a large room. Several people were lying or sitting on mattresses around the edges of each wall. All of them looked very stoned or tired. Grimacing, Neil walked slowly across the room. “Isaac? Isaac Whitney?”

He walked over towards two people lying side by side on mattresses. “Isaac?” One of them tiredly raised a hand. The young man gazed blearily up at Neil.

Neil walked to his side and kneeled down beside Isaac, a younger male who shouldn’t be in this situation. “Hello, Isaac.” Neil said. “Can you sit up?” The man tried but struggled, so Neil helped him sit, then lifted one of his eyelids. The boy’s eyes rolled uncontrollably as he tried to focus on Neil. “Neil Josten?” He muttered quietly.

Neil lifted the other one of Isaac’s eyes, wondering how he knew his name. Did Katelyn really talk about him? Nevertheless, that wasn’t important. “Yes, now wake up.”

“Where am I?”

“The fuck end of the universe. Now look at me.”

Isaac groaned as he gazed at Neil. “Have you come for me?”

“Do you think I came from anybody else here?” Isaac laughed hazily.

On the mattress to Isaac’s right and behind Josten, another person – wearing jogging bottoms and a jacket with the hood up – rolled over, propped himself onto one elbow and looked round to them. “Josten.” Neil raised his head, his eyes widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Did you come for me, too?”

And here, out of all people was Andrew fucking Minyard.

 

  
Outside shortly afterwards, Isaac stumbled over to the car where Kevin was now sitting in the driver’s seat. “Isaac.” He greeted.

“Are you Kevin Day?” Isaac asked him. Kevin nodded. “Can I – can I get in, please?”

Kevin pointed his thumb behind him, Isaac went inside and slept on the back seats. Great. “Where’s Neil?”

“They’re having a fight.” Isaac mumbled.

“What?”

Then Kevin saw Minyard angrily push open a door which had been nailed across a doorway, knocking it off and sending it crashing to the floor as Josten was walking angrily behind him, looking like he was going to hit Minyard with that crowbar in hand. “I was on a fucking case, Neil.”

“For a fucking week?”

“I’m working.”

“This is a drug den.”

“I’m undercover.” Minyard told him, and Josten looked around, dramatically pointing everywhere and then back to Minyard. “Well I’m not now because you fucking blew it.”

Kevin almost drove away, but decided against it. “In. Both of you.” He told them.

Minyard grumpily got into the passenger seat which made Josten have to push Isaac aside to get in the back. Then a homeless drug man hurried over towards the car, cradling his hurt arm.

Josten sighed in exasperation.

“Can I come? I think I’ve got a broken arm.” The hobo looking man asked.

“No. Go away.” Kevin said.

“No, let him.” Josten waved a hand to let the homeless drug man in the car. He shifted over to the centre of the rear seat to give access for the man.

"Why?” Kevin didn’t look too pleased. “Anyone else? I mean, we’re taking everybody home, are we? Having a party.”

”Oh, it’s you.” The homeless man looked to Minyard in the front. “Are you okay, Shezza?”

Neil huffed, surprised by the sudden name. “Shezza?”

“I was undercover.” Minyard frowned.

“Seriously?” Kevin looked at Minyard. “Shezza?”

Minyard sighed.

 

 

Day apparently didn’t drive to their house because apparently hobos would contaminate it, so they drove to the hospital instead. Luckily Walker had her shift because she looked at them all in surprise when they came bursting in. An angry male glaring at Minyard, Kevin fucking Day, a now-found Minyard and a hobo clutching his arm.

And so this was how Walker started taking care of Bill’s arm as everyone sat down on the benches in the hallway. On that point, Day also made sure Minyard was clean and didn’t use any drugs on his "undercover case", "just to be sure". So that was a few less people on the benches by that point. Neil decided to join them all inside instead of being the only one waiting out.

“Well? Is he?” Day asked Walker.

Not looking up from Bill’s arm, Walker nodded.

“For fuck’s sake. It was all for a case.” Minyard explained.

Neil frowned. “What kind of case would need you doing this?”

“I might as well ask you why you started sleeping in my bed.”

Neil laughed. “No. We’re not playing this game.”

“Quite recently, I’d say.”

“Not interested.”

“I am.” Bill said.

They both turned to shut Bill up. Then Bill winced in pain and looked to his arm and to Walker. “Oh, sorry." She said. "You moved. But it is just a sprain.”

“Yeah. Somebody smashed me.” He said. Walker looked puzzled. “Yeah, _some guy_.” He glared at Neil.

Neil shrugged. “Yeah, probably just an addict.”

“Yes. I think, in a way, it was.” Minyard looked to Neil and they held eyes for a moment.

“Is it his shirt?”

“I’m sorry?” Kevin asked, from near the door.

“Well, it’s the creases, right?” Bill looked to Neil. Minyard did likewise and looked down to Neil’s shirt. “The two creases down the front. It’s been recently folded but it’s not new.” Minyard raised an eyebrow. “Must have dressed in a hurry this morning .”

Neil was not starting to like Bill.

“But why? Maybe because you slept in his room.” Bill continued. Neil could tell Minyard was looking at both Bill and himself, seeming rather impressed and amused. “Because you keep your shirts ready to pack but not nicely. He keeps them nicely.” Bill looked at the two sternly.

“Not bad.” Minyard crossed his arms and studied Bill.

Bill put up a finger. “And I further deduce!” Minyard raised his eyebrows and Neil exchanged a brief glance. “You’ve only started recently, because you’ve got- Ow.” Bill looked to his arm.

“There, all done.” Walker said.

“What’s your name again?” Minyard asked Bill.

“They call me The Wig.” He said.

“No they don’t.”

“Well, they call me Wiggy.”

“Nope.”

“Bill. Bill Wiggins.” Bill sighed. He tried, that was all that counted.

Walker smiled at him. “Nice observational skills, Bill.” Bill blushed.

However their conversation was cut short by Minyard’s phone sounding an alert. He took out the phone and looked at the messages, scrolling through them all and grinning. Once finished, he turned and headed for the door. “There’s every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers.” He told them all.

Raising his phone to his ear as Minyard walked out the door, pushing Day aside, Neil sighed for the fiftieth time today.

 

 

Minyard and Neil were alone in the front of his car after they made sure Minyard was both clean and not hurt. Walker told them both, she could take Day, Isaac and Bill home. Which Neil was happy to let happen. However he was still rather angry with Minyard.

There was silence for a while as Minyard drove and Neil stared out the window. “You’ve heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course.”

“Yeah. Owns some newspapers – never read them though.”

The journey continued in silence after that. Minyard eventually pulled up outside 221B Baker Street. As soon as he saw the closed front door, Minyard let out an exasperated sigh. “What is my brother doing here?” They both got out and headed for the front door.

"How do you know? There are no cars?"

Minyard went up onto the doorstep and glared at the door knocker. “He’s straightened the knocker. He fucking always corrects it.” Minyard then deliberately pushed the door knocker to one side, before letting himself in.

Neil followed him into the building and as predicted, Aaron was sitting on the stairs to their apartment, waiting for them. “Well, then, Andrew-”

“What are you doing here?”

“Kevin called me. You know, cross-dressing would have been a wiser path for you, I think.”

“Kevin phoned him.” Minyard repeated, looking to Neil. Neil shrugged. Minyard went past his brother and entered their apartment.

Aaron sighed after him. “Of course he fucking did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?”

“We?”

“Andrew Minyard.” In the middle of his living room, Reynolds smirked on his couch. Neil didn’t know how she got in, or when. None of the boys had seen her in a while. Though under these circumstances, another drug bust isn’t the best place to chat.

Minyard frowned when he saw everyone. “For fuck’s sake.”

Aaron blew out a breath at his brother.

“It’s for your own good.” Reynolds smirked.

Looking annoyed, Minyard dropped his keys onto the kitchen table. Then Wilds came back from the bathroom and stared at them all. “Oh, you _are_ back.” She smiled.

Minyard walked over to his couch and slumped down, flipping his hood on as if it were to block them all out. Aaron looked sternly at his brother. “You can’t afford a drug habit.” He said.

Minyard closed his eyes. “I do not have a drug habit.”

“What have you found so far? Clearly nothing.” Aaron looked to Reynolds.

“Because there’s nothing to find.” Minyard told them.

“Your bedroom door is shut.” Aaron said, looking to the shut door. Minyard sighed and looked to Neil through his hood. Neil didn't know what to say. It was a habit of his to close the door, nobody could blame him. “You haven’t been home all week. So, why would a man who has never knowingly closed the door bother to do so on this occasion?”

Minyard didn't stop staring at Neil. “Maybe because I’m not the only one sleeping here, now.” Aaron looked like he doesn’t believe him. “A shocker that Neil slept in my bed, is it that so hard to believe?" Aaron snarled. "Anyways, this,” He gestured to the air. “This is for a case.”

“What case could possibly justify this?”

“Magnussen.” Aaron’s neutral expression dropped to grim. “Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

Aaron looked to everyone in the room that froze. “That name you think you may have just heard – you were mistaken. If you ever mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you – on behalf of the British security services – that material will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in your immediate incarceration. Don’t reply – just look frightened and forget it all.”

Wilds immediately ushered Reynolds out of the kitchen and followed her onto the landing, closing the door behind them against her will. Aaron turned back to where Neil was standing beside Minyard. “I hope I won’t have to threaten you as well.”

“Well, I think we’d both find that useless.” Neil challenged him.

“Magnussen is not your business.” Aaron summarized.

“Oh, you mean he’s yours.”

“You may consider him under my protection.”

“I consider you under his thumb.”

“If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going against me.” Aaron replied, warily. Neil sensed that he wasn’t doing it in his own voluntarily.

“I’ll let you know if I notice.” Minyard looked bored and strolled towards the kitchen. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Huh? What was that? What was I going to say? Oh, yeah.” He opened the door and pointed outside. “Bye-bye.”

Aaron scowled and walked next to him. “This is unwise.”

Immediately Minyard seized Aaron’s arm, twisted it behind his back and slammed his brother face first against the wall. Aaron winced in pain. “Don’t appall me when I’m high.” Minyard’s voice was venomous and Neil walked closer to Aaron..

“Aaron, if I were you, I wouldn’t say another word and I would leave. He could snap you in two, and right now I think he actually might.” Neil smiled.

Aaron pushed himself free of his brother’s grip. Minyard turned and walked away, in the direction of his couch. Aaron looked like he was planning on commenting from what just happened, but Neil slammed the door in his face and the room was quiet.

In the living room, Minyard was stretching and rubbing the back of his neck. Neil turned and walked towards him. “Magnussen?”

“What time is it?”

“About eight.”

Minyard breathed in deeply and a disgusted look met his face. “I’m meeting him in three hours. I need a shower.” He walked towards his room but Neil stopped him.

“It’s for a case, you said?” The blond hummed. “What sort of case?”

“Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in.”

“You trying to put me off?”

“No.” Minyard had his hand on the bathroom door and looked back to Neil. “Trying to recruit you.” He gave him a small smile and went into the bathroom. “And stay out of my bedroom.” He called back and the door closed behind him. Neil sucked in a breath and was left to sleep on the couch once more.

 

He ended up not sleeping. Since he was awake, he was awake and there was no going back from that. Later on, Mjinyard came out of his shower with wet hair, and dressed up in his usual attire. It may have only been a week and a half (Kevin ended up not counting it right), but it felt too long for Neil. “So – it’s just a guess but you’ve probably got some questions.” Minyard said as he sat down on the couch next to Neil.

“One or two.” Neil said. “Maybe sixteen.”

“Naturally.” He ruffled his own hair and sighed. “Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark – it’s the only way I can describe him. Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, Josten – stood up close to the glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes. You probably haven’t but that’s what he is. I’ve dealt with murderers, psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers, rapists. None of them are like Charles Augustus Magnussen.”

“The newspaper owner?”

“Well you know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but he’s so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his that wealth and power.” Andrew took out his laptop. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the Napoleon of blackmail and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name,” He turned the laptop, showing the screen to Neil of blueprints from a rather large house. “Is Appledore.”

“What’s important about it?”

“It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world. The Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals – and none of it is on a computer. He’s smart – computers can be hacked. It’s all on hard copy in vaults underneath that house, and as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you’ve ever met is a fantasy.”

There was a knock on the living room door, followed by Betsy’s, “I’ll get it.” Couple minutes, she came back, rather nervously as three men in suits followed her up. As a fourth person walked towards the stairs, all eyes went to him.

“Oh, do come in.” Minyard told the men as they were already in the living room.

One of them walked over to Neil while the three others generally looked round the room. Neil glanced over to Minyard, then looked back to the man. The man smiled at Neil and reached into his coat pocket, Neil flinched at first then noticed that the man was just retrieving Bill’s flick-knife he forgot was there. “Oh. That.” Neil frowned. Then the man opened his coat and Neil stepped backwards but the man was insistent and pulled out the crowbar from his waist, looking at Neil sternly. Neil sighed. “Doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see you, too.”

The man, however, did not look amused.

Andrew intervened. “If you know who I am, then you know who he is, don’t you, Mr Magnussen?” Andrew faked a grin as he watched Magnussen walk towards him after he was done with Neil. All other men stood aside and watched their boss. “I understood we were meeting at your office.” Andrew commented.

Magnussen looked round the room for a moment. “This is my office.”

On Magnussen’s point of view, he could see the clear information given to him when looking upon the auburn headed boy.

Nathaniel Abram Wesninski

Son of Crime Lord Nathan Wesninski

Porn Preference: None

Finances: 100% debt.

Status: Important

Pressure Point: Father  
  
On Neil’s point of view, he seemed rather confused by the stare Magnussen was giving him as he smirked at the boy. He then made himself comfortable on their couch. Minus the asshole traits, something about Magnussen’s whole manner just made Neil on edge.

“Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Thea Muldani on the matter of her past. Obviously the proof no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind,” Minyard broke off, noticing something about Magnussen’s expression as Minyard talked. Magnussen gave a quiet snort. “Something I said?”

“No, no. I was reading.” Magnussen smirked and started to clean his glasses. Neil raised an eyebrow. “There’s rather a lot.”

Minyard frowned. Then Magnussen put the spectacles back on and smiled. “Drake.” He said, unexpectedly like he was reading off of something. Minyard blinked. Magnussen chuckled. “Sorry. Just something I noticed. You were probably talking?”

“I,” Andrew looked rather angry but cleared his throat anyways. “I was trying to explain that I’ve been asked to act on behalf of-”

Magnussen turned his head to the security man beside Neil. “Bathroom?”

“Along from the kitchen, sir.” The man nodded.

“Okay.”

“I’ve been asked to negotiate the return of those letters.” Minyard asked more firmly. “I’m aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents.”

“Is it like the rest of the flat?” Magnussen looked at the security man.

“Sir?”

“The bathroom?”

“Er, yes, sir.”

“Maybe not, then.”

“Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?” Minyard said, and Magnussen met his eyes for a moment then turned to the window.

“Thea Muldani. I like her.” He said, popping his lips at the end.

“But for an intermediary?” Minyard repeated.

“She’s English, with a spine.” His words were purring in Neil’s ears and he hated it. Magnussen then lifted his foot, putting it against the side of the coffee table, then pushed the table away from him. Minyard frowned even more. Magnussen stood up and, beside Minyard, the second security man walked near the wall. Neil glanced over his shoulder. “Best thing about the English,” Magnussen walked over to Neil and Minyard who stood next to one another, looking up and down to each of them. "You’re so domesticated. All standing around.” He walked around them. “Keeping your little heads down.” Minyard was seconds away from kicking the man to bits, but knew it would be bad. Neil simply stared at the man who was bordering close proximity, and sucked in a breath.

After what felt like forever, Magnussen stepped away, and went over to the fireplace. The sound of unzipping trousers could be heard. Neil looked appalled and turned away from the man. Andrew’s lip twitched a couple times as Magnussen simply urinated in the fireplace. “A nation of herbivores.” Magnussen chuckled and zipped his trousers back up. He half glanced over his shoulder to Neil. “I’ve interests all over the world but everything starts in England.” He said. “If it works here, I’ll try it in a real country.” Looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, Magnussen turned and strolled back in between the boys, almost resting his fingers on the men. “The United Kingdom, huh? Petri dish to the Western world. Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I’m keeping them. Goodbye.”

He turned as if to leave, then looked back and put his hand into his jacket’s inside breast pocket.

“Anyway,” He grinned and pulled out the edge of a packet of documents. Simply showing them to Minyard before tucking them back away, as if gloating about something. “You both are funny.”

Smirking, he left the room as the security men follow him out. As the sound of their feet could be heard clattering down the stairs, Neil took a deep breath.

“Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?” Minyard asked.

“There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind.” Neil wanted it out.

“Exactly – when he showed us the letters.” Minyard looked like he was in his own world. He frowned in anger and Neil closed his eyes in disbelief. “So he’s brought the letters to London – so no matter what he says, he’s ready to make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once he’s established a person’s weaknesses – the pressure point, he calls it.” He picked up his coat from a dining chair and put it on. Neil raised an eyebrow. “So, clearly he believes I’m a drug addict and no serious threat. And, of course, because he’s in town tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while he’s out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven until ten.”

Neil raised an accused finger. “How do you know his schedule?”

“Because I do. Right – I’ll see you tonight. I’ve got some shopping to do.” He headed out the door.

Neil called after him. “Wait. What’s tonight?”

“I’ll text instructions.”

Looking exasperated, Neil followed him down. Minyard smirked when he's saw Neil.

“Don’t bring a gun.” He said.

“Why would I bring a gun?”

“Or a knife, or a tyre lever. Probably best not to do any arm-spraining,” He opened the door to get out and then waited a moment, glancing back at Neil. “Unless you know how to hide them.”

Then Minyard was gone.

  
  
Neil walked towards the entrance of a skyscraper building. Tall, large and rather modern. Very glassy. Hee walked through the revolving doors, approaching the security barriers which need an electronic key card to open them. He looked around and then to the wide-screened TV in the foyer, which was airing the news as the reporter spoke. A picture of a middle aged man was seen and the reporter said, “And breaking news now. John Garvie MP has been arrested today on charges of corruption. This follows an investigation-”

Neil felt a tap on his shoulder. “Magnussen’s office is on the top floor, just below his private flat.” Minyard said, looking towards a lift. “But there are fourteen levels of security between us and him. Two of which aren’t even legal in this country. Want to know how we’re going to break in?”

“Is that what we’re doing?” Neil raised an eyebrow.

“Of course it’s what we’re doing.” Minyard turned and walked away.

Apparently the plan involved getting coffee, because the next thing Neil knew, he had a cup in hand and both him and Minyard looked like they actually worked there. They moved closer to an escalator as Minyard didn't lose sight of the higher lift on the second floor. In all honestly, Neil had a suspecting feeling about all of this. “Magnussen’s private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it, and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed.”

They got to the top and walked towards the lift itself. Minyard held up a key card. However, he didn’t insert it into the electronic device meant for it. “Standard key card for the building. Stole it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the canteen.” He explained.

Which also explained the coffee. Minyard looked to Neil and gestured to the lift. “If I was to use this card on that lift now, what would happen?”

“The alarms would go off and you’d be dragged away by security.”

“Exactly.” Minyard said.

“Get taken to a small room somewhere and get your head kicked in.” Neil added.

Minyard looked to him. “Bit excessive.” Neil shrugged. “But,” Minyard said. “If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It’s a common problem – never put your key card with your phone. What happens if I use the card now?”

“It still doesn’t work.”

“But it doesn’t read as the wrong card now.” Minyard pointed out. “It registers as corrupted. But if it’s corrupted, how do they know it’s not Magnussen?”

Neil’s eyes widened. “Huh.”

“Would they risk dragging him off?”

“No.” He scoffed.

“So what do they do? What do they have to do?”

“Check if it’s him or not.”

Minyard pointed to the small reader on the electronic device. “There’s a camera at eye height to the right of the door. A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen’s personal staff in his office – the only people trusted to make a positive ID. At this hour, almost certainly his PA.”

“So how’s that help us?”

Minyard smiled along the corridor, then looked round to Neil. “Human error. There’s a reason I only started to get into this case at this time of the year.” He walked along the corridor to the lift, Neil looked all around before following him. Minyard reached the lift doors and raised his card towards his phone, then the reader.

Neil quickly stood to the side out of view of the camera. “You realise you don’t exactly look like Magnussen.”

Up in the office at the top of the building, the laptop beeped its alert and showed its message on the screen. That the card was corrupted. The attendant walked across the room to pressed a key on the keyboard and Minyard’s live image smiled into the camera at him. The man took a quick step back and wondered what the fuck his cousin was doing here? “Andrew. What the fuck are you doing?”

On the other end of the camera, Andrew tried his best to smile into the red spot. Neil looked confused, tried to intervene on why he heard Nicky Hemmick was on the other end but Andrew held up a hand to stop him from moving closer to the camera. “Hi, Nicky. Could you let me in?”

“I can’t, Andrew. You know I can’t.”

“Nicky, if you know what’s best for you, you would let me.”

"Andrew, I like this job."

"And I like seeing my cousin." The red spot immediately glowed blue. Opening for both Minyard and Neil. Besides the blond, Neil forced his own smile and nodded politely at another woman as she walked past them both as he sipped his cup slowly. The elevator opened and both boys went in, Andrew taking off the forced smile as quickly as he faked it on. “You see? As long as there’s people, there’s always a weak spot.” Minyard told Neil. “And for Nicky, it’s family.”

“But that was Nicky.” Neil said as the elevator ascended.

“Yes, of course it was Nicky. He’s Magnussen’s PA for the season. That’s the whole point. Why he moved to Germany was to marry Erik, but he got a job at the News over there, because he said one day, he would reach the point of being on that screen and broadcast the weather or some shit like that. He wanted to be a star but he’s a drama queen. Lucky for him, they saw him more of a secretary.”

“Which is why you took the case now. Because he was here for the wedding season due to being in at the office.”

“Of course.”

“Nicky won’t be okay once he realised that you came just to break into Magnussen’s office.”

“Not at all, but do I care? No.” The lift stopped at floor 32 and the doors opened. Minyard walked out and looked for Nicky, but there was no sign of him. They walked farther into the office but frowned.

“So where did he go?” Neil asked.

“It’s a bit rude. I only just arrived.” Minyard said.

Neil walked across the room and saw Nicky lying on the floor. “Andrew…” Minyard looked to where Nicky was and frowned.

“Did he faint? Was he that disappointed to see me?”

Neil rolled his eyes and took his hand from his head, finding blood on his fingers. “It’s a blow to the head, but he’s breathing.”

Nicky moaned quietly. Minyard looked round the rest of the office and saw something in an adjoining room. “Another in here.” He commented as he looked down at the unconscious suited man lying face down on the floor. “Security.”

“He dead?” Neil asked.

Minyard walked to the man’s side and looked down at him, surprised at what he saw. Tattoo on his neck and receiver in head. ”He’s an ex-con. White supremacist, by the tattoo, so who cares?” 

Neil hesitated, checking to see if Nicky would be alright for a while. Then he heard noise coming from upstairs. Deeming Nicky okay, Neil went over to Minyard. “They must still be here.” He told him.

Minyard straightened up. “So is Magnussen." He said once finishing over his check of his office. "His seat is still warm. He should be at dinner but he’s still in the building." Minyard said, then walked back to Nicky. He investigated the shirt and attire he was wearing, to see if he missed anything. Neil heard more scattering upstairs. He looked back to Minyard who probably had a plan on him but decided against his better judgement, and proceeded to go upstairs.

Up in what must be Magnussen’s private penthouse flat, Neil walked softly along the carpeted hall towards where he could hear Magnussen talking quietly and sounding very anxious and almost tearful. That was a first.

Neil walked carefully towards a partially open door at the end of the hall. He looked through the gap in the door and saw Magnussen on his knees with his hands behind his head and cowering.  Standing in front of him, someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves cocked the pistol and silencer they were pointing at Magnussen with. He cowered, whimpering and momentarily lapsing into Danish words Neil almost understood. However he wasn't fluent enough in the language to comprehend.

Neil slowly pushed the door open. “You’re doing this to protect him from the truth ... but is this protection he would want?” He heard Magnussen chuckle. Neil slowly walked to stand a few feet behind the person holding the gun, who was wearing a black knitted cap on their head, covering their hair. Neil tried to see their face but apparently he made too much noise, as Magnissen straightened a little and looked to Neil. This caught the attention of the other as they turned and Neil frowned in confusion. The face of Jean Moreau met his gaze and a pistol aimed to Neil’s chest.

“Is Andrew with you?” Jean asked.

“He’s, um,” Neil sucked in a breath. “He’s downstairs.”

Jean nodded, biting his lip.

“So, what do you do now? Kill us both?” Magnussen mused. Keeping his pistol aimed in front of Neil, Jean smiled humourlessly at Magnussen.

“Jean, whatever he’s got on you, let me help.” Neil said. He shifted his weight onto one foot, preparing to step towards him.

“Don't take one more step, I don't want to kill you.” Jean said. Neil knew this wasn’t him talking. What was causing Jean to do something like this? He thought the deal with Riko was over and done with.

"Do it." Magnussen mused as he looked to Neil.

Neil started to lift his foot off the floor.

Immediately a bang was heard in the air.

The trigger was pulled.

Neil looked down and realised the bullet impacted his lower chest. Jean looked terrified by what he did. “I’m sorry, Neil. I truly am.” He said and looked back to Magnussen who started to laugh. The laughing continued and continued and continued. Like it was on repeat, playing over and over again.

Neil's eyes widened and everything froze around him. The room darkened, an alarm was heard in the distance, probably from the sound of the gun which had alerted authority. However the alarm faded into something that sounded like it was coming from underwater. Everything was becoming distant.

“It’s not like it is in the movies.” He heard a voice next to him and Walker smiled when he turned his head. Neil knew he was imagining her - knew this was because he was dying slowly. She was not real. This was not real. He was dying. “There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards.”  She spoke. “The impact isn’t spread over a wide area.”

The scene in Neil’s mind changed, he appeared in a white mortuary room and she walked over to a body lying on a table in the middle of the room. The body was covered with a white sheet and had an identity tag tied to one bare toe. “It’s tightly focused, so there’s little to no energy transfer.” Walker reached down and started to pull back the sheet covering the body. Neil saw himself lying under the sheet dead and cold. The wounds of a bullet in his chest. Neil then realised this would be him in a couple minutes.

“You stay still and the bullet pushes through.” Walker explained. “You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus. You need to _breath_.”

Then Walker slapped Neil hard across the face. He breathed in and his eyes widened as he kept his breaths moving. In the fake mortuary room, Walker walked towards the end of the other Neil’s dead body. “It’s all well and clever, Andrew’s Mind Palace, but Neil, you need one as well. You’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on – what’s going to kill you?”

Neil furrowed his eyebrows. He was not Minyard, he couldn’t do this. Walker frowned at him. “Focus, Neil.” He looked down to his corpse.

“Blood loss.”

“Exactly. So, it’s all about one thing now.”

They were back in Magnussen’s room, Jean and the man himself frozen in time. Was this what it felt like in Minyard’s mind?

The loud alarm finally faded out from its lucid sound, and went silent. “Forwards, or backwards?” Walker asked. “We need to decide which way you’re going to fall.”

Then in his vision, Boyd was next to Neil, smiling. Walker missing from the room. “One hole, or two?” He asked.

“Sorry?” Neil stammered.

Boyd raised his eyebrows in a questioning way. “Is the bullet still inside you, or is there an exit wound?” He asked. “It’ll depend on the gun.”

Neil turned his head to the left and saw Jean’s frozen form, still aiming the gun at Neil as he never shot him. With a whole life on the run, he recognized a few guns when he saw them. “Cat-0208.” He told Boyd “Or Cat-173634.” Neil frowned as if uncertain.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Josten.” He heard somebody say and he turned, the scene changing in front of his eyes. Only Minyard, sitting on the coach at their apartment, staring at Neil attentively. “It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.”

Neil walked towards him, as if earning for more. Minyard leaned forward to do so. However Minyard disappeared and Neil wished he didn't. Because the next moment, his mother was replaced by the blond, gazing at her son. “You always were so stupid.” She said and Neil's eyes widened.

He stammered back, realizing now he saw a young boy. His young self. His young self next to his mother once again. The small auburn haired child with big bright blue eyes. “Such a disappointment, Abram.” She went to hit him but the scene froze once more. Minyard reappearing in front of him again, frowning upon Mary.

“Mummy seems very cross with you.” Minyard said, gestured to the two frozen people now. Side by side. Both the man who did nothing wrong, blamed for everything and manipulated into something he wished not to be, and the woman who carried Neil through survival no matter what it meant, hunted down by the person they both feared. ”Because it doesn’t matter about the gun.” Minyard told him.

“Why not?” Neil felt his heart pound in his chest. It felt louder in his smaller chest. Perhaps Minyard would enjoy finally being taller than Neil in this form.

“You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?”

“I’ve not been murdered yet.”

“Balance of probability, Josten.”

They were back at Magnussen’s room, Neil turned back to the adult he was, his mother's figure gone and Minyard still besides him looking at both Jean and Magnussen’s frozen form. “If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?” He asked.

Neil looked behind him and saw the mirror on the door. “The mirror shattering.”

“Yet you didn’t. Therefore?”

“The bullet’s still inside me.”

“So, we need to take him down backwards.”

Neil turned his attention back to Minyard. “You need to fall on your back.” He said. “Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle. The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow. But any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it. Plus, on your back, gravity’s working for us.” Neil looked to Jean when Minyard said, “Fall now, Josten.”

Neil’s eyes were half-closed and his body began to slump. He started to topple backwards. The room took on its normal settings as he slowly fell backwards. The scene sinking back into play, the sirens coming back on slowly and Jean panicking in front of Magnussen with his chaotic laughs.

Before Neil hit the floor, he was suddenly back in the bright white mortuary room, standing upright, and the alarm was blaring again. He stumbled back against the cabinets in the wall, clapped his hands to his ears and cried out in panic. The alarm did not sound like the one in the room. This was in his mind. It was all him. And it was loud, it was painful and powerful.

Neil lowered his hands and looked around in confusion, his mind pounding, his ears ringing. Beside him, his own dead body was lying on the tray with his eyes closed once more. “You’re going into shock.” Kevin Day said. “It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.”

“What do I do?” Neil lifted his head to meet his gaze.

Day sighed. “Don’t go into shock, obviously. Must be something in these memories of yours that can calm you down.”

Neil screwed his eyes closed, and now he was on a roof, sitting down with a cigarette in hand. The roof of their apartment. Alone. But he wasn’t alone. He had Minyard by his side as they both looked to the streets in front of them.

It soothed Neil, it made him calmer. Being alone with Minyard and watching the world work around him. The atmosphere, the air, the smoke, everything about this made him feel like he was back home. His new home.

But then Minyard was gone and Day stood besides him. “Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain.” He said.

Neil looked to him, the cigarette dropping from his hand. He felt it all. From the bottom of his chest to his head, it hurt so much. He convulsed to the floor, his eyes wide and teeth clenched. Day looked towards him, his face serious. “There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding.” Neil’s face contorted and he screamed loud, eyes closed and chest hurting in agony. “You have to control the pain.” Day said as Neil continued to scream.

Neil took all that it could to survive. He wouldn't die like this. Cringing to get up, he stumbled through his way to the stairs from the roof, running down and thrashing from side to side as he groaned in pain. The bottom didn’t look like their apartment however, it was a padded cell. The room was circular but tall and on the cell to the door, a man crouched on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head lowered.

The door closed behind Neil and he flattened himself against the wall beside it, falling to the floor and crying out in pain. He tried to calm himself but it hurt so much. He repeated those series of words, but his voice quieted a little with each repeat.

On the other side of the room the man wore a filthy white straitjacket and had a large metal collar around his neck with a heavy chain fastened to it, attached to the other wall adjacent to Neil. He slowly turned his head a little towards Neil, breathing very loud. His hair a mess, his eyes wild. Neil stared at him, his own eyes growing wide and his teeth bared either from hatred or from pain. “You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?!”

Riko Moriyama laughed. “You always feel it, Nathaniel.”

He turned his head some more and looked across at Neil, his face murderous. The lights around the walls flickered briefly and Riko surged up and charged towards Neil, his mouth wide and roaring with fury. But Riko’s chain stopped him from getting close to Neil. His face inched away and Neil simply staring at the male. “But you don’t have to fear it, Nathanial!” He laughed manically into Neil’s face. Neil stumbled over, crying out in agony. “Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Torture. Death. It’s all good!"

Neil rolled onto his side, his face screwed tight and tears streaming from his eyes as he tried to fight the agony in his chest.

 

  
“Josten?”

In Magnussen’s room, Andrew was on his knees beside Josten, his face filled with horror and anger. Magnussen laughed at the sight of it all. He was becoming hysteric over the pain of others. He was the only other sign in the room and Andrew swore. “He got shot.” Magnussen told him.

Andrew flipped open Josten’s coat and saw blood streaming into the shirt around a bullet wound. He was still breathing, however, which was a good sign. Magnussen picked up his glasses which had fallen to the floor. “Who shot him?” Andrew asked.

Magnussen sat up and put his his glasses on which fell to the floor, then looked across at Andrew but didn’t reply. Andrew reached forward and grabbed the fucker’s collar in his hands. He couldn’t do anything. He wanted to but he knew how Magnussen worked and he couldn’t do it. Not if he wanted Josten to be alive by the end of this. So he let go and shouted in anger to nothing at all.

An ambulance was now racing through the streets. In the back of it a paramedic teared open Josten’s shirt. An oxygen mask had been strapped to his face. His eyes were closed and he looked close to dying.

Andrew was in the vehicle, his hands to his face and watching them touch his friend. He wanted to rip all of their hands off their bodies but he had to control himself. He had to make sure Josten was alright, that he would be fine.

Neil’s eyes cracked open a little bit and he stared at Andrew. Words coming out of his mouth that he didn’t understand. It was at this moment Andrew felt real passion for something in his life. Josten had to survive.

 

 

On his knees in Neil’s mind padded cell, Riko leaned forward as far as his chain would let him and breathed out heavily into Neil’s face. “Come on, Nathanial. Just die, why can’t you? One little push, and off you go.” Neil continued to scream. Riko was kneeling up and he continued to taunt Neil and laugh about it all.

At the same moment, Neil thought he heard the faint monitor’s flatline tone in the back of the cell.

“You’re gonna love being dead, Nathaniel.” Riko mused as he looked down at Neil’s body on the ground. “No one ever bothers you. Isn’t that what you want?”

Neil curled up in himself. It still fucking hurt, but he had to control. He had to grow accustomed to the pain. The slow beeps of the monitor continued to every beat of his heart. ”Kevin will cry. Matt and Dan certainly will join. Renee, Allison, perhaps even Wymack. They will all cry. Tears and tears. All because of one little pest. But only one person from them all with be devastated. Will push through everything to get you awake. He will be angry, he will finally feel something besides his ice cold heart. Oh, this is great.” Riko laughed. “You’re letting him down, Nathaniel. Andrew Minyard is definitely in danger and it's all because of you.”

Slowly lifting his head, Neil turned to Riko with bleary eyes. Neil blinked and sighed out a painful breath. Grimacing, he started to get up. The monitor’s tone beeped a low and flat tune. He felt his heart stop and knew he didn’t have much time, he wasn't in stable condition and had trouble balancing up. However he kept on falling back down in pain and by exhaustion. He slammed his hand onto the floor a couple times, trying to get everything under control. Riko cooed next to him as he struggled. “Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?”

Neil hauled himself to his feet, then slumped back against the wall. Riko grinned at him for a moment, then his smile faded as Neil glared back at him, breathing heavily and covered in his own sweat from the aching. Grunting with the effort, he pushed himself off the wall, turned to the closed door beside him, trying to get a grasp onto it. Andrew. He needed Andrew.

Riko screamed as Neil pushed it open, and slumped onto his knees outside. The scenery changed and Neil was climbing down those staircases again. To their apartment. To his home. Neil took hold of the banister at the top of the stairs and pushed himself down. Grimacing in agony, he began to haul himself down the stairs. He cried out with the effort. He heard the monitor beep slowly. Very slow beeps as he pushed himself down further.

 

 

In the hospital, one of the surgeons slowly turned his head to look towards the monitor, and the lights in the operating theatre seemed to come on again. The nurse looked to Neil Josten’s index finger which was slowly lifting off the cover to where his body was lying on the operating room table. The surgeon’s eyes widened, and all the staff in the room hurried back to Neil Josten’s body.

The heart monitor showed another spike and another beep could be heard. It was working. Neil Josten was pushing through. The patient’s face was filled with agony as each beep continued on the screen, Neil Josten was surviving but with pain.

In the operating room, the patient's eyelids began to lift as the heart monitor beeped quicker than ever.

And then Neil Josten’s eyes opened to the world once more.

 

  
  
”Andrew.”

Andrew’s eyes flinched open as he stared at Boyd walking his way. He had a large grin on his face as he came next to Andrew. “He pulled through.” He said and this was all Andrew need, because he was already rushing to the resting room, not caring about all the nurses who tell him it wasn’t visiting hours. Andrew didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything or anything but Neil Josten.

 

  
  
The top of Neil’s bed had been raised a little, and the resting male opened his eyes, lifting his head from the pillow with a tired sigh.

“I’m so close to buying a cabin. Away from here and everyone.” A voice spoke.

Sitting on one side of the bed near Neil’s feet, Allison Reynolds smiled down at him.

Neil tilted his head, too tired to speak. “It’s my turn to watch. Well, co-time.” She said. Neil furrowed his eyebrows. “Minyard hasn’t left, it’s been a few days. He’s just guarding your door and hasn’t moved. Nobody dares approach him or enter the room unless he allows it.” She explained. “Me, Dan, Matt and Renee have been taking turns caring for you while he guards. He wouldn’t even let the nurses inside.” Reynolds laughed.

Trying to push himself higher on the bed, Neil cringed in pain. “Ouch. Probably wanna restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with the taps.” Reynolds shrugged. “It’s what you get, don’t ever fucking run off without somebody by your side again. Jesus, you scared us all.”

Grimacing, Neil reached across to a machine beside his bed and pushed a button to release a dose of morphine into the drip in his arm. “Dream come true for you, this place. They actually attach the drugs to you.”

“What about the case?” Neil croaked out.

“Jesus, you are worse than Andrew and Kevin combined. Actually, no. I like you better. But trust me, hun, you won’t be working for a while.” Neil sighed softly and his eyes closed a little.

Reynolds looked away and started to stand up. “Got to go.” She walked over and kissed Neil’s forehead. Neil raised his eyebrows at the unexpectancy. “I’m not supposed to keep you talking.” She picked up her purse and straightened up. “And also I have an interview with The Kathy Ferdinand Show. I think Boyd is next for schedule, but that was when you were asleep. I’ll tell Andrew you are finally fucking awake.” She cooed and left the room. Neil sighed and slouched down on his bed with a grunt.

 

 

“He knew who shot him.” Reynolds told Andrew when she exited Neil’s resting room. “The bullet wound was here," She pointed to her front chest. "So he was facing whoever it was.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Andrew asked, standing up from the wall.

“No. Of course he won’t. I didn’t even ask. I’m leaving the deep shit to you and him.” Reynolds laughed.

Andrew looked up. “He’s protecting them.”

Reynolds stopped in her tracks. “Protecting the shooter? Why?”

“Well, protecting someone, then. Who would he bother protecting?”

“I don’t know if I want to be apart of this anymore.” Reynolds sighed. “Too much hassle. Now, go kiss your boyfriend better and ask him why. He will probably listen to you. Anyways, I’m off. Need to redo my nails for my spotlight moment.” She waved for him to go in. Andrew complied, walking inside the room and saw Josten fiddle with the morphine taps.

“You almost got yourself killed. Why are you doing it again?"

"Andrew." Josten smiled, letting the morphine go.

"Why did you go upstairs?” Andrew asked.

“Remember, I hardly do what I’m told to do.” Josten didn't stop smiling. Andrew wanted it to stop.

"That didn't answer my question." He slid off to the couch in the room, making his way around as if he had been here many times before. 

"I heard something, could have been Magnussen. I'm a curious person by instinct, you should know that by now. Could have been important for us, a threat maybe."

"Doesn't mean you go without me."

Josten rolled his eyes. "I'm not a pet. Even if you went with me, there was a chance of you being shot as well."

"So who did it?"

"Who shot me?"

Andrew looked to him like it was an idiotic question. 

Josten pursed his lips. "He didn't mean it. I wouldn't say that if it wasn't true. You felt the same remorse with Kevin, and look where he is now. Safe and sound, unharmed and unwanted anymore. Who didn't get that, is the one who didn't have place here. Someone who we didn't get to help more than send him away. I'm telling you, never trust the government." He smirked, then sighed when Andrew wasn't having his shit.

"So it's the other one?" Andrew asked, leaning slightly on the chair as if millions of theories were rushing to his head, as if he was calming himself for not lashing out on the Jean Moreau. He was, but knew Josten's words meant wonders. "Was he manipulated into killing someone? Wouldn't surprise me."

"By who is the real question." Neil said.

"I don't care who it is, as long as I get my hands on someone who caused this all."

"Worried for me?" Neil asked, amused.

"Never."

"I doubt that."

"I'm 95% close to killing you."

"Someone already tried and you know how that ended. Still breathing." Neil shrugged, annoyed already by all the wired directed to him and into his skin. He pulled them off quickly, Andrew not saying anything because they never helped anyways. He was just somewhat mildly content that Josten was back.

 

 

  
A church choir could be heard singing in the distance, muffled by closed doors in the northern parts of Germany, nothing like the busy street of England where Josten and Andrew lived. It was more quiet here, less people to disturb you.

“Oh, my god, it’s _only_ two o’clock. We arrived this morning, but it feels like forever.” On a window, Andrew was sitting on the sill and rolling his eyes at his brother. Aaron – wearing a shirt and tie and being overly excessive – was sitting at the side of a large table in the middle of the kitchen rubbing one hand wearily over his forehead.

Fairy lights were decorated along the walls of a living room, and streamers and decorations run along the walls. On a kitchen table was decorated neatly with birthday serviettes and some cutlery. And on the counter, had German dishes, a mix of various other foods, and decorated cake. Andrew was wearing his usual dark attire, a very dark grey dress shirt and pants. Nicky and Erik were talking among themselves. They had invited the boys over for Erik's birthday, as they had missed Nicky's due to the wedding, and Andrew/Aaron's wasn't until the end of the year. Nicky went overboard this time, with how many decorations there were and how many presents were under the table. 

Andrew was against spending time together, especially if it was something as mundane as a birthday, but because of the wedding last May, and the incident that happened with Josten, the latter was persistent that they spent a week at the Klose-Hemmick house for the occasion. It was only July, after all, and Nicky told them it counted as a summer break. Josten was fine with it and convinced Andrew and Aaron to come along. Bold of him to act as the voice of reason.

“How can it only be two o’clock? I’m in agony.” Aaron continued.

“Is this your laptop?” Nicky asked. Standing at the end of the table, he pointed down to a silver laptop on the table.

“On which depends the security of the free world, yes.” Aaron smiled sarcastically at him. “And you’ve got potatoes on it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t leave it lying around if it’s so important.” Nicky spoke up. He reached to pick up the basket of sweets but put it down again when Aaron continued to bicker about how this was the worst time of the season for him to just chat and spend his summer break. That's he'd rather be with Katelyn. Nicky had invited her, but Aaron refused, saying he didn't want her to live a week with Andrew, Josten, Nicky and Erik alone. Eventually, Nicky had let it be but persisted on her coming over next Christmas.

Nicky was multitasking, trying to cook up a disaster of a dinner while Aaron looked to Andrew for plea. “Why are we doing this? We never do this.”

“We are here because Neil is home from the hospital and we are all very happy he's alive. And not to mention, Aaron, that it's my _husband's birthday_." Nicky said to piss off his cousin. "Also since I quit my job and realised how I needed a well-deserved break, me and Erik have decided to stay here a while longer. For the summer. With you both, Neil and Kevin and Jean. Deal with it.” 

Aaron looked up at him with an extremely insincere smile. “Am I happy too? I haven’t checked.”

“Aaron.” Nicky warned.

Bill Wiggins walked over and held out a glass of punch with pieces of fruit floating in it. “Want some?” He asked.

Nicky looked round and took the glass from him. “Thank you.” He looked to Andrew. “Not absolutely sure why you’re here, however.” He drank the glass.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I invited him.”

“I’m his protégé, Mister Hemmick. When he dies, I get all his stuff, and his job.” Nicky looked at him, a little startled.

“No...” Andrew told him.

“Oh. Well, I help out a bit.”

“Closer.”

Nicky and Erik looked at Bill. “If he does get murdered or something-”

“Probably stop talking now.” Andrew warned Bill.

“Okay.”

“Lovely when you bring your friends round.” Aaron rolled his eyes.

Nicky sighed dramatically at the boys. “Stop it, let’s all just have fun!”

The boys looked at him with serious expressions.

“Okay, let’s just _not_ kill each other.”

They continued to stare.

“Okay, fucking do what you want. What do I care.” Nicky went back to the kitchen, probably heading over there to start another smoke alarm.

The brothers both looked pleased by his answer, and left the room with that.

 

 

“Ah, Neil. There you are.” Nicky said once he entered his living room.

Carrying a mug, Nicky took it across to where Neil was sitting in an armchair facing the fire. Neil had a blanket over her stomach and legs and sat comfortably in the couch away from people and resting himself. Kevin did the same but he looked like he was having an epiphany.

Nicky handed the mug to Neil, who smiled as he took but didn’t drink. Nicky smiled wide. “Cup of tea.”

Neil nodded his way and the moment Nicky left, he heard Day and someone talk in the hallway. Probably for the best, after all this is one of the first times they were meeting under these circumstances. Him and Neil had already consolidated and honestly, he was glad Jean Moreau could be here at all. He needed someone to be there for him, and Neil would make sure all his friends would be those people.

 

 

  
A couple months ago before Erik's birthday, Neil Josten entered the hospital due to being shot, after weeks of taunting the nurses to let him go, he came back to Baker Street safe and sound. Betsy Dobson was in the kitchen but hurried towards him worriedly. “You’re okay.” She grinned wide. “But you look terrible. Here, have a seat. Be careful.”

“Could you get me some morphine from your kitchen. I’ve run out.” Josten smiled, telling her that he was fine standing up.

“I don’t have any morphine.” Betsy pressed her lips together for a moment, then looked around at both boys. “I sense something. What’s going on?”

“We have a visitor.” Andrew said.

“Nobody was at the door.” Betsy said.

“Ms. Dobson, do you think you could go buy me some morphine?” Josten asked. She nodded then left. Josten turned back to Andrew. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Seems so. He needs an explanation after all.”

They entered the living room and there he was. Jean Moreau looking down at the floor, hands glued together and sitting on their couch.

Andrew was about to lash out at him but Josten stopped it from happening and tilted his head at the man on their couch. “What is he?”

“What is what?” Andrew said through gritted teeth.

“No. What is he?" Josten repeated, quietly so Jean Moreau did not hear their presence, even if it was likely he already knew. However Neil needed to make Andrew at peace, needed him to understand what was happening, who was to blame and who was to be protected. "Don’t think of him as someone who attacked me. Think of him as something else. What is he? In this apartment, not in this room. Right here, right now, what is he?”

Andrew's eyes remained locked on the man that shot Neil Josten. Being Riko’s bitch did nothing to take that away. After a long moment, Andrew breathed in. “Okay.” He looked to Josten. “Your way. Always your way. No killing, sure.” Andrew turned, picking up one of the dining chairs and putting it down in front of the couch. He looked at Jean. “Sit.”

Jean was silent for a while, looking to the chair in front of him. “What?”

“Because that’s where they sit. The people who come in here with their stories. The clients – that’s all you are now, Jean. You’re a client. This is where you sit and talk.”

Andrew walked over to the couch and sat when Jean got up. A moment later, Jean hesitated to sit down in front of him, but he finally did so.

“How much d’you know already?” Jean asked.

“You spent your life with Riko after you’re parents were in debt, they settled it with you as their pawn. They sold your life and took Josten’s would-be-place on their court, and their killing. You were one of Riko’s only allies left and you thought you had your life back together after that. Now you are somehow associated with Magnussen. Perhaps because he knows your secrets and who you really are or were. And that was why you were going to kill him. Was that your own passion or did something else happen?”

Jean frowned. “The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life. He could frame me for more than millions of things Riko did. People like Magnussen should be killed. That’s why there are people like me, to kill in Riko’s place. Until Kevin stepped over line and then Riko made it public.”

“But he is dead.” Andrew stated, his voice a little over line.

Josten sucked in a breath and changed the topic. “So Jean, any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want extracted and returned?”

“Why would you help me?” Jean frowned.

“Because you saved my life.”

“What?” Andrew asked.

Josten didn’t take his eyes of Jean. “When I happened to stumble between you and Magnussen… you had a problem. More specifically, you had a witness. The solution, of course, was simple. Kill us both and leave.” Josten explained in words that sounded all too familiar to Andrew. He was such a bad influence. “However, sentiment got the better of you. One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me in the hope that it would bide you more time to negotiate my silence. Of course, you couldn’t shoot Magnussen.” Josten looked to Andrew. “On the night that both of us broke into the building, Andrew would become a suspect, so you calculated that Magnussen would use the fact of your involvement rather than sharing the information with the police as his M.O and then you left the way you came. Have I missed anything?”

“How did he save your life?” Andrew asked, more persistent on that part of the whole ordeal. Even if he was impressed by the calculations Josten had made.

“He phoned the ambulance.”

“ _I_ phoned the ambulance.” Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“He phoned first. You didn’t find me for another five minutes. Left to you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is eight minutes. So, listen to me when I tell you this. Andrew – Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Jean. He saved my life.”

“He shot you.”

“Not out of his own will. Trust me then, when I tell you he is no threat compared to Magnussen.”

 

  
Outside the cottage, Aaron and Andrew were idly wandering along the path in the front garden towards the gate. Andrew holding his still lit cigarette and blowing it into Aaron’s face whenever he pleased. “As much as you are annoying me right now, I’m glad you’ve given up on the Magnussen business.” Aaron told him.

“Are you?”

“I’m still curious, though. He’s hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you hate him?”

“I hate a lot of people. But him, I despise. He attacks people who are different and preys on their secrets. So Aaron, I am to ask, why don’t you?”

“He never causes too much damage to anyone important. He’s far too intelligent for that. He’s a business-man, that’s all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil – not a dragon for you to slay.”

Andrew took a drag of his cigarette. “A dragon slayer. Is that what you think of me?” They stood side by side with their backs to the cottage.

“No. It’s what you think of yourself.”

The cottage door opened behind them and Nicky came out onto the step. “Are you two smoking?”

The boys rapidly spun round to face him. “No.” Aaron said.

“It was Aaron.” Andrew said.

Nicky gave them a suspicious look, then went back inside and shut the door. Andrew blew out a long plume of smoke in the direction of the door. Aaron wandered a few paces towards the door, then slowly turned back again as he spoke. “I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline.”

“I would decline your kind of offers anyways.”

“I shall pass on your regrets.”

“What was it?”

“MI6 – they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months.”

Andrew, who had started to raise his cigarette to his lips, lowered it again and looked a little surprised. “Then why don’t you want me to take it?”

“It’s tempting, but on balance you have more utility closer to home.”

“Utility. How do I have utility?”

“Here be dragons.” There was silence for a while and then Aaron ruined it by coughing. “This isn’t agreeing with me. I’m going in.”

“Here I thought you would be used to the smoke.” Andrew huffed.

Aaron slowed down and stopped before he reached the door. He paused for a moment before speaking. “Also, your loss would break my heart as will many others.” 

Andrew choked and coughed on the smoke before turning to look at his brother, who still hadn’t turned around. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“Happy Birthday, Erik?”

“You hate birthdays.”

“Yes.” Aaron said. “Perhaps there was something in the punch.”

“Clearly. Go and have some more.” Andrew told him. Aaron turned and went inside. Andrew sighed, looked once more of the fields and small village before him before turning back in himself.

 

 

In the sitting room, Neil, Day and Jean were sitting on the couch. They talked about what they all missed and how much of a piece of shit Riko was. It was comforting for Neil. In some way.

Then, unexpectedly, Kevin dropped his glass of wine and both men looked to him confused. He stumbled on his feet as he tried to get up, but ended up slumping to the ground. Jean tried to reach out to Kevin but he thrashed to the side and fell to the ground next to him. Neil looked at them both with wide eyes. “What the fuck just happened?” He crouched down next to Jean and Kevin’s corpse and checked their pulse. They were still breathing, thank god.

Then the door opened and Minyard briskly walked in a couple of paces. “Don’t drink the tea.” He pointed to Neil’s unsipped cup. “Oh, or the punch.”

In another sitting room next door, a glass was lying overturned on a table and Erik and Nicky were lying on the sofa with his eyes closed. Minyard held his hand over their noses to check that they were breathing normally, then continued onwards. Neil followed him into the room while Minyard headed into the kitchen, where Aaron was slumped on a dining chair with his head on the kitchen table and his eyes closed.

Minyard checked his brother's breathing, holding the back of his hand to his face. Then walked past Bill, who was standing nearby. Neil looked to Bill with wide eyes. “Did you just drug everyone?”

“Don’t worry. Wiggins here is an excellent chemist.” Minyard told Neil.

“I calculated everyone’s dose myself. I’ll keep an eye on them.” Bill looked rather proud, even though that shouldn't be a sentence to be proud of in the first place.

“He’ll monitor their recovery. It’s more or less his day job.” Minyard explained.

“What the fuck have you done?”

Andrew sighed. “A deal with the devil.”

 

  
A few months ago, a blurry figure walked in through a door. At the far end of the room Andrew was sitting at a small table which had a red tablecloth and on the table in front of him was a plate with a part-finished meal. Some sort of pasta. Andrew chewed and swallowed his latest mouthful of food, not looking up as the other person walked closer.

“Shouldn’t you be in hospital with your friend?” Charles Magnussen asked.

“I am in the hospital. This is the canteen.”

In the canteen, there are no other customers and the only member of staff were at the far end by the door. It wasn’t so a canteen and looked more or less like a restaurant. Magnussen looked around. “Is it?”

“In my opinion, yes.” Andrew gestured with his fork to the chair on the other side of the table. “Have a seat.” He then laid down his fork on the plate and watched as Magnussen sat down opposite him. “I’ve been thinking about you.” He confessed.

“And I’ve been thinking about you.” Magnussen told him.

“Really?” He narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps not for the same thing, then. I want to see Appledore, where you keep all the secrets, all the files, everything you’ve got on everyone. I want you to invite me.”

They locked eyes. “What makes you think I’d be so careless?”

“Oh, I think you’re a lot more careless than you let on.”

Magnussen leaned forward. “Am I?”

Andrew had his elbows on the table with his hands clasped in front of him. He too leaned forward, and smiled as he looked into Magnusson’s eyes. If it were a challenge, he’s beat the shit out of him. “It’s the dead-eye stare that gives it away. Except it’s not dead-eyed, is it?”

He continued to reach towards Magnusson’s face and slowly took hold of Magnusson’s glasses. Magnusson’s eyes flickered towards the glasses when they left his face but then he returned his gaze to Andrew. “You’re reading.” Andrew said. “Portable Appledore. How does it work? Built-in flash drive? 4G wireless?” He put them on and raised his head as he looked through the lenses. After a moment he frowned, turning his head a little and then lowering it before he slowly took off the glasses again, blinking as if confused. “They’re just ordinary spectacles.”

“Yes – they are.”

Andrew grimaced slightly, still looking down at the glasses. Magnussen looked at him. His vision was slightly blurred without his glasses on, but text appeared in front of his eyes in red.

_Pressure point: Neil Josten_

Magnussen lowered his head and smiled, then reached across with one hand and flicked through the pasta on the plate with his fingers, unearthing a black olive. Andrew continued to stare down at the glasses. “You underestimate me, Mr Minyard.”

Andrew sank back in his seat, still looking at the glasses as if in disbelief. Magnussen picked up the olive and put it in his mouth, then licked his thumb and forefinger. With his other hand he reached across the table and took his glasses from Andrew, then put them back on. Andrew slowly lowered his own hands to the table. “Impress me, then. Show me Appledore.”

Magnussen chewed on his olive. “Everything’s available for a price.” Andrew lifted his eyes to this. “Are you making me an offer?”

“A birthday present.”

“And what are you giving me for my birthday, Mr Minyard?”

Andrew hesitated for a moment, then said, “My brother.”

 

  
In the kitchen, Andrew was still looking down reflectively. Josten turned away from him. “Oh, fuck.” He paced around while Andrew looked down at his unconscious brother. “Minyard… don’t tell me you haven’t just gone out of your mind.”

Andrew bent down and took the silver laptop from the table, pulling it from under where Aaron’s hand was resting. “I’d rather keep you guessing.”

Josten turned towards the sound of an approaching vehicle. Andrew sucked in a breath, “Ah. There’s our lift.”

Very shortly afterwards, as the helicopter flew low past the front of the cottage, Josten walked down the path with Andrew behind him holding the laptop under his left arm and a coat in his right hand. Josten went through the gate as the helicopter landed in the field in front of the cottage. “Coming?”

“Where?”

“Do you want your friends to be safe?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Josten then realised what Andrew meant by that and kept his mouth shut.

They both turned and looked at the helicopter. “Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous." Andrew said. "One false move and we’ll have betrayed the security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the most dangerous man we’ve ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked against us. Did you bring your gun as I suggested?”

“Why would I bring my gun to your cousin’s house for his husband's birthday dinner?”

“Is it in your coat?”

“Yes.”

“Off we go, then.” They started to walk towards the helicopter.

“Where are we going?”

“Appledore.” Andrew grinned.

 

  
The helicopter flew down towards a large house while Andrew and Josten looked down from inside the vehicle. They landed on the grass not far from the mansion. Security men walked towards the helicopter while another stood on the patio outside. The boys got out and were escorted towards the house and the helicopter took off and flew away. Shortly afterwards one of the security men led the boys through an inside area which was lined with large green exotic plants, while another man followed behind.

Right inside, Magnussen was sitting on the sofa one level above them. He took a drink from his glass as his men escorted Andrew and Josten out of an elevator and into the room where he was. Andrew stopped a couple of paces in front of the sofa while Josten stood a little way behind, still frightened over the man that had laughed hysterically at his death, reminding him of dark times.

Magnussen nodded to his own men and they turned and left.

“I would offer you a drink but it’s very rare and expensive.” He lifted his glass and smirked. Andrew turned and sat down on the sofa a couple of feet to Magnussen’s right. He sighed and slapped his hands down on the white leather either side of him, putting the laptop down between himself and the other man.

Then Andrew tilted his head in realization. “Oh. It was you.”

Projected onto a glass wall opposite them, footage was playing of Andrew’s rescue of Josten from the bonfire a long while ago. The footage repeated on a continuous loop.

“Yes, of course.” Magnussen said.

Josten glanced over his shoulder and turned back, shocked. He blinked, and stepped a little back. Looking around for the possible exit in case both he and Andrew needed it.

Magnussen gestured to the large screen. “Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr Minyard. But I finally found one after that day. The drug thing, well, I never believed for a moment." He laughed quietly and slowly. "Anyway, you wouldn’t care if it was exposed, would you? But judging from your reaction of the bonfire, just look how much you care about precious Neil Josten. The damsel in distress.”

Josten’s head whipped around so fast. “You put me in a fire for leverage?”

“Oh, I’d never let you burn, Nathaniel.” Josten flinched. Magnussen sat up and put his glass on the clear table in front of him. “ I had people standing by.” Andrew looked up thoughtfully at Magnussen as he stood. “I’m not a murderer."

Josten stared up at him grimly. Magnussen held his gaze for a while, then glanced behind him, walking over towards the wall where the footage was being shown. “Let me explain how leverage works, Nathaniel.” Reaching the wall, he put one finger on it at the side of the projected footage and it disappeared immediately. “For those who understand these things, Aaron Minyard is the most powerful man in the country. Well…  apart from me.” Josten tilted his head. “Aaron’s pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Andrew Minyard. And Andrew’s pressure point is his best friend, Neil Josten. Neil Josten’s pressure point is his saviour he learnt to trust, Andrew Minyard. How sad that is.” Andrew looked to Josten. “But now I own them all. I own Jean Moreau. I own Aaron Minyard. I own the world. He’s what I’m getting tonight.”

Even though the laptop was almost within his reach, Magnussen held out his hand towards Andrew. Without looking round, Andrew shoved it across the sofa towards him. “It’s an exchange, not a gift.”

Magnussen raised his eyebrows at him. Andrew walked a few paces forward. Magnussen picked up the laptop. “Forgive me, but,” Magnussen ran his eyebrow over the back of it. “I already seem to have it.”

“It’s password protected.” Andrew said. “In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession pertaining to the man I know as Jean Moreau."

“Oh, he’s bad, that one. Riko’s little useless whore. You should have sees what I’ve seen.” Magnussen smiled and Josten's eyes narrowed at the man.

“I don’t need to see it.” Andrew told him.

“You might enjoy it, though.” Magnussen looked at them both, from Andrew, then to Josten. “I enjoy it.”

“Then why don’t you show us Appledore?” Andrew asked.

“Show you Appledore?” Magnussen put the laptop onto the sofa beside him. “The secret vaults? Is that what you want?”

“I want everything you’ve got on Jean.”

Magnussen let out a short breathy laugh, shaking his head a little in disbelief, then lowered his eyes, scratched the back of his head as if the two before him were incompetent. Josten’s mouth twisted and he shot a brief glance towards Andrew who stopped him short. Eventually Magnussen stopped laughing and looked down to the laptop, patting it and grimacing a little. “You know, I honestly expected something good.”

“Oh, I think you’ll find the contents of that laptop-”

“Include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived they’ll find top secret information in my hands  and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover further information of this kind and I’ll be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with your giddy friends.” Magnussen looked at Josten, who continued to hold his gaze, though his cheeks moved as if he was gritting his teeth a little. Only once Magnussen started talking again did Josten cast a quick glance towards Andrew. “Aaron has been looking for this opportunity for a long time. He’ll be a very, very proud brother.” Magnussen took his glass and sipped all that was left.

“The fact that you know it’s going to happen isn’t going to stop it.” Andrew said.

“Then why am I smiling?” Magnussen held a grim smile which didn’t please either boys. “Ask me.”

Josten took a step towards him. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because Andrew Minyard has made one enormous mistake which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves, and everything he holds dear. Let me show you the Appledore vaults.” Magnussen got up and led the others across the room and through an open glass doors of a study. Inside the study was another larger wooden door. “The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all.”

Magnussen took hold of the door handles, then pulled the doors open. The two boys looked inside. Magnussen stepped slowly through the doors, looking all around, while Andrew and Josten looked uncertain at what they saw. There was nothing inside. Absolutely nothing to Appledore. The only thing in the room was a metal low-backed executive chair.

As Magnussen slowly continued to turn around, Andrew’s eyes quickly skimmed around the room before landing on the man himself. “Okay – so where are the vaults, then?” Josten asked.

“Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building.” Magnussen sat down on the executive chair then gestured around the room. “They’re all in here.” Josten frowned and blinked. Magnussen leaned forward and slowly raised the fingers of his right hand to touch his temple. “The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, don’t you, Andrew? How to store information so you never forget it – by picturing it. I just sit here, I close my eyes and down I go to my vaults.” Magnussen closed his eyes. “I can go anywhere inside my vaults. My memories. I’ll look at the files on Jean Moreau.”

Magnussen took out his hand and pretended to flick through pages.

Andrew closed his eyes and shook his head a little, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Josten stared at Magnussen as he smiled. “Mmm, ah.” He stopped the motion of his finger. “This is one of my favourites. Oh, it’s so exciting. All those wet jobs for Evermore. Ooh. He’s gone a bit freelance now. Bad boy.”

Then Magnussen opened his eyes and looked to Andrew. “You see?”

“So there are no documents. You don’t actually have anything here.” Josten concluded.

“Oh, sometimes I send out for something, if I really need it, but mostly I just remember it all.”

“I don’t understand. You just remember it all?”

“It’s all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning.”

“But if you just know it, then you don’t have proof.”

“Proof? What would I need proof for? I’m in news, you moron. I don’t have to prove it – I just have to print it.” Andrew stayed quiet as Josten and Magnussen bickered some more about how that was possible against impossible. Finally Magnussen had enough of the younger male. “Speaking of news, you’ll both be heavily featured tomorrow – trying to sell state secrets to me.” Magnussen tutted disapprovingly, then looked at his watch. “Let’s go outside. They’ll be here shortly.” He walked out of the room and headed towards the glass door. “Can’t wait to see you arrested."

Josten watched him go, then stepped closer to Andrew. “Andrew, do we have a plan?” However the addressed man was fixated in place, still looking down towards the vault. “Andrew.”

Then Josten turned and walked away. Andrew shut his eyes closed, screwing them shut with a look of despair. He didn’t solve it. He didn’t make the right decisions. His dedications didn’t sum up.

Magnussen won.

He sucked in a breath and followed Josten out. They were both led out onto a patio. Magnussen looked around at the darkening sky. “They’re taking their time, aren’t they?”

Josten stopped beside him, not looking at the man. “I still don’t understand. You just know things. How does that work?

Andrew stopped in front of the door as he watched them both, his mind blank from everything.

“I just love your little pathetic face. I’d like to punch it.” Magnussen said. Josten stared back at him, his eyes wide. “So soft, so broken, so young.” He smiled. “Bring it over here a minute.”

Josten glanced over to Andrew.

“Come on.” Magnussen cooed. “For Jean. Bring me your face.”

Josten slowly took two steps closer to the asshole. Magnussen turned a little to face him, then leaned down. “Now, can I flick it?” Magnussen asked. Andrew flinched in anger. There was no other way but to fight off the anger inside him, if he wanted Josten to survive this all. “Can I flick your face?” Magnussen asked again.

However, he didn't let Josten reply. Magnussen lifted his right hand with the back towards Josten, bent his middle finger under his thumb, held his hand close to Josten’s left cheek and then flicked sharply against his cheek. Josten blinked instinctively and tilted his head at the man. Magnussen flicked his cheek again, then chuckled. “I just love doing this.” Magnussen said and looked to Andrew who was doing everything in his willpower to stop himself from hurling on Magnussen as he continued to flick Josten’s face. “I could do it all day, watch you squirm, watch Andrew fight back emotions he never thought he'd show. It works like this, Nathaniel. I know everything about Jean. I know where to find people who hate him. I know where they live, I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace – all of it.” Andrew’s gaze towards him became more intense. “I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down – and I will.” Andrew’s lips were slightly lifted from his teeth in anger. “Unless you let me flick your face.” He continued to flick him three times more. Andrew continued to glare at him with his teeth bared. “This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries just because I know.”

He bent back down to Josten.

“Can I do your eye now? See if you can keep it open, hmm?”

He flicked Josten’s left eyebrow. Josten’s eyes instinctively flinched closed. Magnussen sniggered and flicked his eyebrow again. “Come on. For your man over there. Keep it open. Come on. Eye open.” With a bemused look on his face, he flicked his eyebrow again, and again. He laughed as Josten’s breathed harshly. “It’s difficult, isn’t it? Nicky managed it once. He makes the funniest noises.”

Andrew felt his blood boil. He couldn't do it any longer. However an approaching helicopter could be heard. It soared over the roof and at the same time, armed police ran towards the patio. The helicopter dropped down to hover some yards away, its spotlight aimed towards the boys on the patio.

“Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten.” Aaron’s voice was heard loud from the speaker of the helicopter. “Stand away from that man.”

Magnussen smiled at the boys. “Here we go, Mr Minyard!"

“To clarify. Appledore’s vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there.” Andrew said, conceiling his anger for just a little longer. Concluding what he had in mind. What Magnussen knew of Jean, what he did to him and everyone who didn't deserve to suffer. What he said and did to Josten. What he will do further on. Andrew had enough.

“They’re not real. They never have been.”

Andrew nodded.

“Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten. Step away.”

Magnussen walked forward a couple of steps, waving his hands calmly at the helicopter. The armed police continued moving into position, aiming their rifles towards the patio. “Target is not armed. I repeat, target is not armed.” One said.

Josten looked to his friend. “Andrew, what do we do?”

“Nothing.” Andrew said quietly, but loud enough for Josten to hear. “There’s nothing to be done.”

While Josten continued to stare towards the helicopter, Andrew turned his head and looked at his friend, and his gaze was penetrating and intense. Josten kept his glare.  
Magnussen laughed. “Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Minyard. But were you ever one in the first place?” Andrew looked away from Josten, lowering his gaze but still with a determined look about it. He shouldn't. He couldn't-

“Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten, stand away from that man. Do it now.” Aaron’s voice boomed over the speakers.

“Oh, do your research.” He stepped closer to Josten and reached into his pocket, then stepped closer to Magnussen. “I’m not a hero.” Magnussen slowly turned to look at him. “I’m a high-functioning sociopath.”

Magnussen’s eyes widened as he glared at Andrew.

“I don't like it when people tough my things.” Andrew said, and pulled the trigger.

Josten flinched as Magnussen’s dead body hit the ground and the police went haywire. Screaming, "man down" every second and Josten stepped closer to Andrew.

Andrew growled at him. “Get away from me, Josten. Stay well back.”

“Andrew, I-”

The police ran towards the patio, aiming their rifles at Andrew as he faced them head on.

“Do not fire on Andrew Minyard! Do not fire!” Aaron’s voice was heavy. The marksmen took up positions, aiming their laser sights towards Andrew. Keeping his hands raised, Andrew looked round to Josten.

“Tell Jean he’s safe now.” Andrew looked like this wasn't bothering him, but deep down he was. He was simply glad he could kill off the fucker while he had the chance.

He took one final look at Josten then turned towards the marksmen and the helicopter and began to sink slowly to his knees. Josten’s eyes filled with despair. The beams from the laser sights traveled over his face as he stared ahead of himself, knowing that he had done something from which no one can save him from. Andrew was caught for manslaughter in front of the governement themselves.

In the helicopter up above them, Aaron took off his headset and stared in equal despair towards his brother. “What have you done?”

 

 

Aaron Minyard stood at the glass wall of a large meeting room. He had his back to the room and was looking outside. A suited man stood nearby to his right and Aaron straightened up towards him. “As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt instrument. Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger – a scalpel wielded with precision and without remorse.” He looked to his left. “There will always come a time when we need Andrew Minyard.”

Several men sitting at tables in the room looked back at him silently but the man standing near him spoke up. “If this is some expression of familial sentiment-”

Aaron rolled his eyes, sighed and turned to him. “Don’t be absurd. I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion.” Then his stare became intense as he looked at the man. “You know what happened to the other one.” The man looked away, grimacing slightly. Aaron turned to look out the window again. “In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Andrew without causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however… ” He looked further across the table towards Thea. “Would require your approval.”

“Hardly merciful, Mr Minyard.”

“Regrettably, Thea, my brother is a murderer.”

But so was he.

 

 

A black car drove along the runway towards where an executive jet was stationary on the tarmac. Standing near the nose of the plane, Andrew, Aaron and a security man watched the car pull up. Jean got out of the rear door nearest the plane, there because he was out of his debt and ready to take on what he had left, and Josten there to help him through it.

“You will look after them all, won’t you?” Andrew asked Josten. Josten nodded without saying a word and they both stared at each other for a while longer. Andrew then looked to his nosy brother and sighed. “Since this is likely to be the last conversation I’ll have with Josten, would you mind if we took a moment?”

Aaron looked a little wary, but glanced over to the security man and jerked his head towards the side of the plane. The security man, Aaron and Jean walked along the side of the jet towards the wing and Andrew turned to Josten - who simply, out of all things, smiled down at him. Andrew's percentage was about 110 now. So he stepped closer to the male. 

Josten cleared his throat. “Actually, I can’t think of a single thing to say.” He told Andrew truthfully.

“No, neither can I.”

Andrew lifted his head as Josten stepped closer and spoke quietly. “But the game is over. He’s dead. We won.”

Andrew looked into Josten’s blue eyes and sighed. “The game is never over, Neil. It would continue on, just without me.” He wanted to say something witty before he left so he ended up saying, “The East Wind takes us all in the end.”

Apparently it wasn’t the best thing to say because Josten laughed and said, “What’s that?”

“It’s a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind – this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth.” Andrew said. “And apparently the East Wind was generally me, which my brother made fairly obvious.”

Josten nodded. “Wow. Nice.”

“He was a rubbish brother.”

They both smiled, then Josten looked down, clearing his throat. “So what about you, then?” He lifted his head. “Where are you actually going now?”

“Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe.” Andrew sounded bored.

“For how long?”

Andrew looked slightly above Josten’s head so as not to meet his eyes. “Six months, perhaps a year. My brother's estimating is rather bad.”

“And then what?” Andrew met his gaze for a moment, then looked down thoughtfully.

“Who knows?” He said.

Josten nodded and then turned away to look across the airfield again, breathing in deeply. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“That’s a strong word, coming from you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Josten smiled but his face turned to something painful. “Can you promise me then, that you’ll come back?”

Andrew hesitated. He didn’t know what would happen after this work. His brother perhaps had plans for him. A possibility he could probably go to jail. Especially if someone were to dig deeper into his past. There was unlimited situations to what could happen next, and it was the one thing Andrew didn’t know himself. Something he didn’t know the outcome to. That being said, he didn’t predict this outcome either. To spend his last few days of being alive, next to Josten and thinking about him.

So he told Josten what he wanted to hear, what he would try to do by every second he was away. He would fight to have this ending and would do anything to achieve it. So Andrew Minyard said, “I’ll come back.” And then his lips quirked up just a little bit. A small smile meaning wonders for the both of them.

Andrew looked directly at his friend who was smiling throughout the whole thing, hiding something else within. But Andrew was seeing Josten for who he is, not who he was. He wasn't the person people make him out to be, he is not Nathaniel and he sure isn’t his father. He is Neil Josten and Andrew liked every part of him. He stuck up to his friends, found a home and safety. Found feelings he didn’t know he could feel. He went through hell but he wasn't alone when suffering. He never was and he never would be. Because even if Andrew had to leave, be away from the only thing giving him light in the dark parts of life, it would always be Neil Josten and Andrew Minyard.

After a moment Andrew took off his right glove and held out his hand towards Josten’s face. A silent question on his lips. The words Josten knows well by now. Josten looked to Andrew and nodded.

So within the moments they had left of each other, Andrew kissed Josten for the last time in a while. It wasn’t heated, it wasn’t desire. It was a small kiss that showed both boys what they meant to each other. That their relationship didn’t have to be from the sexual want on both parties, but more that whatever they went through together, everything that they suffered through, there was something more between them. That Andrew realised Josten wasn’t nothing to him but everything he never knew he could have. They parted ways, their soft kiss leaving marks on both lips, the ghost of who they were to each other.

“To the very best of times, Josten.” Andrew told him.

He held out his hands.

Josten hesitated for a long while, wondering if Andrew was okay with this. Andrew waited until Josten realised he was and then he finally took Andrew’s hand in his. They stood there for a couple of seconds, minutes even, just being in the contact of one another. Then Andrew realised it was time and gave Josten’s hand one more small pump before releasing it and turning away, putting his glove back on as he walked towards the plane.

 

 

 

A football match on the sports channel was being played at a local bar, busy, roudy, everything someone would expect a bar to be like. The score a tie, and everybody in the pub was not having it. Men’s voices could be heard shouting encouragingly in the room as the commentary played over the footage. 

The screen fritzed briefly, but everybody ignored it at first.

On the TV, a player volleyed the ball towards the goal but it flied over the top. In the pub, the customers groaned.

One of the customers was David Wymack, who was standing at the bar. He grimaced at the loud voices and how drunk he probably was. The TV could be heard fritzing again and one of the male customers called it out, presumably to the landlord. “What’s up with the telly? There’s something wrong with the telly, mate!”

The TV was fritzing even more.

“Give it a whack, then!” Someone called up.

Wymack, curious, looked up at the screen, which had gone to static and no longer played the match. However, the blank screen slowly began to clear and a shape could just about be seen through all the distortion. It seemed to be a head and shoulders from someone facing to the right with their head turned away from the camera. Wymack stared up at the TV and, although the picture was becoming clearer, Wymack’s face filled with shock once seeing who it really was.

“Who’s that?” One guy asked.

Wymack wished he didn't know.

 

 

At Bart’s, Renee Walker and Allison Reynolds stared in horror in the lab which had a TV playing on a table. It couldn’t be, they both thought. In a house nearby, Dan Wilds and Matt Boyd were watching a movie, snuggled together with their child sleeping next door when the man came on screen and both of their jaws snapped open. In a conference room further into the city, Thea stood up from her seat, apparently looking at the TV screen. “How is this possible?” She asked. 

A man called Sir Edwin stood beside her, looking at the screen in confusion. “We don’t know, but it’s on every screen in the country – every screen simultaneously.” He told her.

 

“Has the Prime Minister been told?” She looked round and up to Sir Edwin. “And Aaron?”

Aaron, however, was sitting in the back seat of a stationary car, talking into a phone. “But that’s not possible.” He frowned, opening the door to get out, staring ahead to Neil Josten and Jean Moreau. “That is simply not possible.”

Neil of course, noticed this and went towards the blond. “What’s happened?”

 

 

In the executive jet, Andrew was trying not to look out the window, but was soon awoken by the call of a man in the plane. “Sir?” He asked. Andrew looked to him, eyebrow raised. The man held out a phone towards him. “It’s your brother.”

Andrew took the phone and held it to his ear. “Aaron?” He said, unamused to hear his brother once more today.

“Hello, brother. How is the exile going?” He asked.

“I’ve only been gone four minutes.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’ve learned your lesson. As it turns out, you’re needed.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?”

 

 

In Aaron’s car, the voice could be heard. Loud and clear. He looked to the front of the car where a small TV screen was set into the dashboard.

Over the TV a voice began to speak, “Did you miss me?” It said. And the image of Riko Moriyama repeated on every screen in the country.

In the back of the car, as the voice played on, Aaron spoke a single word into his phone in response to Andrew’s question. “England.” He said.

 

 

Outside the car, Jean looked at Neil. “But he’s dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Riko.” He panicked. Neil wondered where the fuck Kevin was, and how he was dealing with all this as well.

Neil looked at his hands. “Ichirou lied.” He whispered.

“How can he be back?” Jean was in the brink of a panic attack and Neil had to stay calm for him.

“Well, if he is... he’d better wrap up warm.” Neil laughed, painfully looking up into the sky to where Minyard’s plane was descending back down. “Because now there will be two East Winds coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Shit, I havent updated since December???
> 
> Anyways, I'm writing once again after a long hiatus of a couple months!! Heads up that I'm also looking over this series, making the sentences flow better from past chapters until now, fixing up cringey mistakes and grammar. That may take a while, if I'm being honest. I mean, have you seen chapter 1? A DISASTER ILL TELL YOu. And that's only 1 out of 9 chapters, each over 22k words??? What was I thinking??? 
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoyed the update. I may or may not have cried during one part or two. Damn, hallucinations are hard to write, but emotional scenes are fun! (Not really, that's where I balled my eyes out.)


	10. Case 10: The Six Thatchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Episode 1 Season 4 of Sherlock
> 
> Content Warnings; Mentions of past childhood abuse and torture, mental state and manipulation. Case deals with murders, violence both knives and guns, child birth, near-death experience (what are these boys doing to themselves??), and wow much emotional support needed for them all.
> 
> This chapter basically sums up everything that was missing in the plot, I tried very hard to make it correspond to both tfc and Sherlock. So I hope it is okay?...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, okay. So, I ended up posting this chapter earlier than I was supposed to - on ACCIDENT - without it being looked over and/or corrected. Sorry in advance for you early birds who have read this over and thought "is she illiterate???". Honestly, scream all you want over the multiple errors and incomprehensible phrases!! I'm in the middle of correcting so it should not take too long... Damn me and clicking "post" thinking it was "save".

“What you’re about to see is classified beyond top secret.”

A video screen was displaying four perspectives of the scene on the patio at Appledore shortly before Andrew Minyard shot Charles Magnussen. Aaron Minyard was standing with his back to a table, while behind him, sat Lady Thea Muldani herself and Sir Edwin. However, Andrew thought Edwin had no relevance to the case. Near them sat a man perhaps in his late thirties, a notebook and pen on lap all the while Andrew was sitting on a chair near his brother, facing the table. Andrew thought of the confernece as boring and useless. It did nothing but summarize facts he already went through hands-on.

“Is that quite clear?” Aaron looked towards the new face. He pretended to look threatening but Andrew knew his brother pretended to be angry all the time. It was one of his many secrets. Not as if any of those secrets mattered. “Don’t minute any of this.”

The man nodded nervously.

“Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped on the entire incident. Only those within this room – code names Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock and Love – will ever know the whole truth.” Andrew had his head down and typed onto his phone with rapid clicks. “As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond, Charles Augustus - are you tweeting?!” Aaron glared down at his brother who looked up, without regret, as he continued to type down something on his phone.

“No.” He said.

“Well, that’s what it looks like.” Aaron frowned.

“I don't tweet.”

“Give me that.” Aaron quickly walked across to his brother and reached for the phone.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Andrew tried to hang on to the phone with both hands while Aaron struggled to get a hold of it.

Aaron finally gave up. “Will you take this matter seriously, Andrew?”

Andrew huffed. “What makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?” Aaron stared at him for a moment. “Not so long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death, Aaron, if you don't recall-” He looked at a plate on the table and sprung to his feet to walk over there.

Aaron sighed. “Oh, God.”

Andrew ignored him, giving him the middle finger with one hand while the other grabbed a handful of the biscuits from the plate.

“Our doctor said you were clean.” Muldani said, more directed towards Aaron who could speak whether or not that was true.

“I am. Utterly.” Andrew told her, annoyed. He looked to Aaron as he walked back towards his chair, his emotions portraying nothing else. Aaron assumed he was not lying - he never did when it came to serious matters.

“You’re high as a kite!” Sir Edwin’s eyes widened.

“All this is natural high, I assure you. Natural. What shall we do next?” He pointed at the new man in the room. “What’s your name?”

“Victor.” The assistant said nervously, a thick English accent.

“What would you do, Victor?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, it’s a lovely day. Go for a stroll?” Thea frowned at him and shook her head in disbelief. Sir Edwin put his hand over his face. “Make a paper aeroplane? Have an ice lolly?” He took another bite of the biscuit.

“Ice lolly, I suppose.” Victor replied.

“Ice lolly it is. What’s your favourite?”

Victor looked a little nervously towards his superiors. “Well, really, I shouldn’t… Do they still do Mivvis?”

“Mr. Minyard.” Thea said firmly.

Both Minyards looked to her, “Yes?” They asked.

“We do need to get on.”

Aaron nodded, “Yes, of course.” This time Andrew said nothing while Aaron used the remote control he was holding to restart the video footage. In the footage being shown, Andrew was heard saying his last words to Charles Magnussen before he shot him. However, there was something odd with the shot and, something simply not right. The angle of Andrew’s gun and how Magnussen was shot were... different. Andrew raised his eyebrows with a smug look. The video was doctored. Andrew was the one who shot Magnussen and this, this didn’t look like it at all. “I see. Who is supposed to have shot him, then?” He asked.

“Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, that’s who.” Sir Edwin said. Andrew didn’t even know who this guy was, or what was his deal. Thea he understood, she played a large role being the highest authority in London. Edwin was a pawn never being played, or dead in the first few seconds of the game.

“That’s not what happened at all.” Andrew took another bite of biscuit, unamused.

“It is now.” Aaron rolled his eyes.

“Remarkeable. How did you do it?” Thea said, the only one impressed by the footage. It seemed they would play it in case nobody believed that Andrew Minyard was not the murderer who killed of Magnussen. Little do they know it wasn’t his first time, nor would it have been Aaron’s.

“We have some very talented people working here. If Riko Moriyama can hack every TV screen in the land, revive from the dead, then rest assured we have the tech to doctor a bit of security footage.” Sir Edwin pointed towards the screen. As he continued talking, Andrew tuned out from his words and tossed a piece of biscuit towards his open mouth. It missed and fell down the side of his lap. He frowned and tried more times in order to get it right. “That is now the official version; the version anyone we want to will see.” Edwin concluded to which was the only part Andrew had understood.

Thea looked to Andrew. “No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon. You’re off the hook, Mr. Minyard. You’re home and dry.”

“Okay, cheers.” He stood up and started to button his coat, heading out the door.

“Obviously there’s unfinished business. Moriyama.” She said.

“I told you. Riko’s dead.”

“You say he filmed that video message before he died.”

Andrew chewed on his last biscuit. “Yes.”

“You also say you know what he’s going to do next. What does that mean?”

“How do you even know about Riko Moriyama?” Andrew asked of them. This, he was intrigued by. What dangers they could have over him, Day’s, Josten’s and Moreau’s lives. “Did you even have any suspects before his death? Overall, you could have suspected Day, because that was what Riko Moriyama fooled you into thinking. You were convinced it was him, because Moriyama couldn’t harm a fly. You all had no proof. The only action taken place by Kevin Day was your answer without looking into the bigger pictures. And who was right in the end? Who was not as delusional as Riko wanted him to be? Who protected everyone? So why don’t you believe me when I tell you this: Riko Moriyama is dead.”

“We cannot investigate this any further than in the room, due to his family name. But we need to figure out this case. And we need you to cooperate.” Thea replied.

“Perhaps that’s all there is to it.” Sir Edwin said, pointing towards Andrew. “Perhaps Riko Moriyama was just trying to frighten you.”

“No, no.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “He would never be that disappointing. He’s planned something, something long-term, something that would take effect if he never made it out of this alive. Posthumous revenge.”

“We brought you back to deal with this. What are you going to do?”

Andrew barely laughed, but was close to it. “I'll wait.” He said.

“Wait?” Aaron scoffed.

“Of course _wait_. Me and Josten are the targets. Targets wait. Look – whatever’s coming, whatever he’s lined up, I’ll know when it begins.” He walked towards the door, putting his other arm into his coat. “I always know when the game is on. Do you know why?”

A little exasperated, Thea asked, “Why?”

Andrew saluted them before he left. “Because I like it.”

 

 

In the living room, Andrew stabbed one of his knife down into a large pile of letters on the mantelpiece. “If this gets any better, any bigger, I’m going to need more knives. Should I ask Renee?”

“It pays to advertise.” Josten told him from the couch, lying down with a crossword puzzle in hand. They had a domestic bliss since they had become an item, or perhaps something of the like. Andrew was still not used to the term _boyfriend_. However it had fit perfectly when Josten had asked them if they were. Often together on most days, often apart for their own sanity, they had a good schedule. One even Kevin Day would be proud of. Especially since they lived together, it was hard to keep as much distance apart than anything. 

Wilds was standing near the window, rubbing her very pregnant belly with one hand, pressing her lower back with the other, and looking at Andrew sternly. Boyd was sound asleep on the soda in the meantime, the opposite side to Josten. It had been well over 6 months since their wedding, 5 since their honeymoon, 1 since the Charles Magnessun case. It was August. In the meantime, Josten and Andrew had been laying low, small cases and keeping each other company. 

“So, what about Riko, then?” Wilds asked, wanting the know what kind of threat he would pose, and why they had no other word from the little shit after 3 months of waiting.

“I have a plan.” Andrew said. Grimacing, Josten looked to him from the notebook of puzzles. Face not yet convinced whether or not the whole _Miss Me?_  was fake - to how Riko was playing into their heads even under the grave. “I’m going to monitor the underworld – every quiver of the web will tell me when the spider makes his move.” Andrew told him, gesturing to his phone in hand.

“Let me get this straight,” Josten said, ignoring the stare Andrew gave him on the straight comment. “Basically your plan is just to sit there solving crimes like you always do.” 

Andrew ripped the top letter off the pile hung on the wall and smirked over to Josten. “Great, right?”

Josten sighed and ignored the blond, continuing his puzzle, bitting the cap of his pen either in thought for what to do next for the crossword, or how to think about how stupid Andrew little plan may be.

 

 

“He drowned, Mr. Minyard.” A woman said to the boys in their office. _Office_ , however, was a long shot as it was simply their living quarters in which patients sat in a chair while the boys were on their spot of the sofa in front of them. As the client chatted to Minyard about the new-found case, Neil read off the the information about what was in store for them - something that Minyard gave to him so he didn’t have to talk under the circumstances. To figure things out visually. Minyard liked to get ahead of himself and sign them up for shit that Neil didn't even know about, continuing with Neil not understanding the state of the case itself. And apparently needing a note to explain it.

The letter, in uneven written, wrote precisely; _Woman came to us because of her late husband. His body was recovered from the sea near Falmouth. Unfortunate, really. Least she won’t be swimming for a while._

Under the synopsis had information on the client and what Minyard had so far, and little bit of research done right after. However, at the very bottom he had written;  _easy enough for me not to have written all of that for you_. _  
_

Even by letter he was a prick.

His boyfriend was a fucking prick. Yet Neil could not help but smile everytime he thought of it.

Minyard was on his phone while she chatted away, it wasn’t so a mutual conversation. While they talked, while _she_ talked, Neil folded the letter in half, smiling a little at Minyard’s dark humour and listened to her speak. Or well, where she had left off.

“That’s what we thought but when they opened up his lungs…”

“Yes?” Neil asked, as if he was paying attention the whole time.

“Sand.” She said, looking like it was the biggest discovery yet.

Minyard looked at her for a moment, then said, “Superficial.” His phone whistled a tweet alert and he went back to look at it.

Knowing well why Minyard was on his phone, Neil wondered how close they were to solving the long-term case of the undead Moriyama. He had no idea whether or not this would be quick and simple, or if they would have to wait for years on end before being close enough to a small clue that could lead them to the truth. The longer they had, the longer they had to survive. Yet, the more stress they were consumed by. Neil didn’t know which was better, which was worse. All in all, he was simply happy to be with Minyard. He was happy. He never knew he could be, but he was. Seeing him leave that day, when Neil didn't know when the next time they would have met again, it made him feel loss. Having known someone for a little over a year, could attach him to what he desired most. An emotion he hadn’t felt in his life. But it was there, and was blooming with each passing moment he had with Andrew.

He didn’t want it to go.  
  
Many other cases happened, where Minyard and Neil were looking into small mysteries to fill their time. Photographs were scattered over the dining room table and binoculars lied on top of some of them for a reason Neil did not know, their own house becoming more and more of a crime scene than anything they had solved.

As of now, there was a small case of the Duplicate Man. About how Dennis Parkinson could have been in two places at the same time, and murdered in one of them.

Neil stood at the table looking at the evidence. “Minyard…” He started, coming up with an idea, however Minyard cut him off while typing rapidly on his phone.

“It’s never twins.” He told him, and Neil frowned.

It wasn't in the end, it was a wax figure.

On another occasion Minyard was sitting in his chair with his laptop opened on his knees. “Wymack, arrest Wilson. Reynolds, look in the lymph nodes.” He told the laptop. Displaying on the screen was the face of the two said people.

“Wilson?!” Wymack asked. “Lymph nodes?!” Reynolds did the same. Both shocked over the new information for their cases.

“Minyard…” Neil started.

Minyard looked to Reynolds’ side of the screen. “Yes. You may have nothing but a limbless torso but there’ll still be traces of ink left in the lymph nodes under the armpits. If your mystery corpse had tattoos, the signs will be there.” Neil furrowed his eyebrows as he read the information about the case.

 _A limbless body found decomposing inside a trunk in left luggage office in Waterloo station couldn’t be identified, quite boring but somewhat sketchy and the photos were weirdly graphic. Won’t be seeing maggots the same way ever again. However, there are never really any good photos of maggots_ … 

“Bloody hell! Is that a guess?” Reynolds asked, still shocked on the discovery. Her hair was slightly messy, her makeup looking like it did yesterday. She either didn’t care to do anything today nor anything to clean up last night. That or she didn’t sleep enough for the case Minyard solved in under two hours.

“I never guess.” Minyard told her and closed Reynolds’ call.

“So he’s the killer? The canary trainer?” Wymack narrowed his eyes on screen.

“Of course he’s the killer.” Minyard frowned.

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Hm, naturally.” Minyard ended his call as well.

And yet, there were more cases in the preceeding week.

Minyard walked across the room checking his phone while he talked to a man sitting on a dining room chair. “The heart medication you are taking is known to cause bouts of amnesia.” He told him.

 _Joel Fentiman was found strangled in the bedsit he shared with his brother. They had always got on well and there was no sign that this situation had changed, however it was not the case of a kinky sex trick. The brother said he was indeed murdered,_ the note had read.

“Yes, um ... I think so. Why?” Fentiman said.

Minyard sat down in his chair, still looking at his phone. “Because the fingerprints on your brother’s neck are your own.” He told him. Neil almost choked.

A couple days later, another case came in. Another one to which Andrew had organised and only gave Neil a note on what it was about. He sighed in annoyance.

 _We could never have known there was a potential assassin lurking close by. An assassin who turned out to be…_ “A jellyfish?” Neil asked, stifling a laugh as he followed Minyard in the street to get back to their apartment from their daily coffee run.

“I know.” Minyard looked to him slightly amused before looking back to his phone.

“You can’t arrest a jellyfish.” Neil noted.

“Well, you could try.”

“We did try.”

Minyard halted and looked to Neil. “Oh.”

“What?” Neil asked.

“Dan.” He said. “Fifty-nine missed calls.”

Neil swore. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

  

 

Not long afterwards, Wilds was in the back seat of a truck groaning and clutching her abdomen. Boyd was holding her hand, reassuring her that everything would be fine.

Andrew was driving and Neil was in the passenger seat, wondering what to do because he had never experienced his before. 

“Owww! Oh my God. Oh my God!” Wilds did not stop swearing and screaming. She pressed both her hands against the chair. In the driver’s seat, Neil looked worriedly into the rear-view mirror, not knowing what to say or what to do. Boyd was shushing her, “Relax. It’s got two syllables-”

“I’ve seen the birth of many of my siblings, darling. I think I know what to fucking _do_.”

“Come on then, come on.”

“Re…” She started. Boyd pursed his lips, mimicking breathing.

“...lax.” He added for her, blowing out the breath. However, that apparently did not help her, because she looked to him like she was ready to commit murder onto her husband.

Instead, she screamed with all her might. “No, just drive! Fuck, God, just drive! Drive!”

Minyard, sitting on the driver’s seat of his car, glanced behind him momentarily, looking just as confused as Neil was besides him. Not having any siblings besides a fucking twin which didn't do much, they had never seen birth taking place before them. They both knew how to deal with a lot of things in life. Pregnancy was not one of them.

“That’s it, Dan. Re…” Neil pursed his lips and sucked in a breath.

Wilds looked to Neil with a savage look, “Don’t you start as well.”

“...lax.” Neil continued while Wilds screamed louder.

“Matt, honey?” She braced her other hand against the window, ready to hop out. “Andrew, I think you have to pull over.” She shifted back, sucking in a large breath.

“Dan…” Boyd’s eyes widened.

“Pull! Over!” She screamed even louder, to which nobody knew would be possible. Neil looked down towards Dan’s legs and his eyes widened in horror.

“Holy fuck.” He said.

Wilds continued to scream and sob. Neil was looking into nothing, Boyd panicking besides his wife as she was having birth right there and now. Andrew started to pull the car to the kerb and the rest was hectic. Oh fuck, was it hectic.

 

 

A couple days later, in Wilds and Boyd’s home, everyone was sitting on the sofa all the while Wilds was cradling her new daughter. Helium balloons were floating on strings behind the sofa and there were gift bags and flowers on the coffee table in front of the family, and a large white teddy bear besides the sofa. Boyd had his arm around his wife, and the new parents were smiling as they posed for the photograph. Standing at the other side of the table, Kevin Day was drinking from a glass of champagne and Allison Reynolds was taking another photograph with her camera.

Reynolds looked at the screen on her camera and made an exasperated noise. “Ugh, it’s broken!” She huffed.

“Let me have a look.” Walker tried to help, grabbing the camera from her.

Reynolds took this opportunity to look at the baby. “Aww. She’s so beautiful.” She cooed as Walker fiddled with the camera and then handed it to Aaron who didn’t want it, but had no say in the matter because Reynolds was busy playing peekaboo with the baby. Minyard was standing a short distance away, engrossed with his phone as Neil looked at him, disappointed.

He may not have been good with children, but there was a respectfulness someone ought to have in this situation. Even after knowing Minyard for about two years, his boyfriend never changed.

“What about a name?” Walker asked the wedded pair.

“Catherine.” Boyd said.

“No.” Wilds said.

“No?”

“We never agreed to a name, yet.”

“Well, you know what I think.” Reynolds smirked.

“We aren’t naming the child Allison.” They both said.

“So to what then?” Walker asked.

Wilds and Boyd smiled at each other. “Rosamund. Means ‘rose of the world.’ Rosie for short.” She said. “Oh. Also... Allison, Renee?” Wilds got their attention. “We would love you to be godparents.”

“Oh!” Walker smiled bright.

“Really?” Reynolds looked surprised.

“So lovely!” Abby called from the back once she came in, followed by Wymack just behind her. He nodded in greeting and smiled at the new child.

As everyone started chatting again, Boyd stood up while Reynolds took his place, wanting to hold the baby. He walked over Josten and Andrew - who was still texting. “And, uh…” Boyd started. “You, too?”

“You too what?” Josten asked.

“Godfathers? We’d like you to be godfathers.” Boyd smiled.

Josten widened his eyes, probably not having expected that either. Him? A parent? Andrew continued to text. “God is a ludicrous fiction dreamt up by inadequates who abnegate all responsibility to an invisible magic friend.” Andrew told Boyd. Boyd frowned.

“Yeah, but there’ll be cake. Will you do it?” Andrew glanced up at him briefly. Boyd had so much hope.

“I’ll get back to you.” And he walked away.

“That’s a yes. We’d be happy to.” Josten smiled at Boyd who grinned wide and went back to his fiancée.

Josten then followed Andrew out. “Didn’t you get Day’s text?” He asked.

“No. I delete his texts. I delete any text that begins with, _Hi_.”

Andrew lowered the phone and looked to Josten. “We have another case…” He said. Behind his back, Andrew continued to type.

Josten raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yes.” He said.

Josten rolled his eyes and the boys walked back home, hoping everybody would be fine without them.

 

 

In 221B Baker Street, Andrew sighed in exasperation. “As ever, Boyd, you see but do not observe.” He paced around the room. “To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery whereas, to me, it is an open book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy. That is your choice. You fail to connect actions to their consequences. Now, for the last time,” He bent down and picked up a jingling baby’s rattle. “If you want to keep the rattle, do not throw the rattle, okay?” He looked towards Rosie in her crib. Across the room, Wilds was lying on the sofa fast asleep with one foot up on Boyd’s lap as he sat at the other end with his hand on her leg, also asleep.

He presented the rattle to Rosie. She gurgled, took it, and promptly threw it in Andrew’s face. Andrew sighed once again. He did not enjoy children.

 

 

Neil had gotten back from his trip to take care of Rosie. Him and Minyard were taking turns so that Wilds and Boyd could have some time for themselves. That being said, some rather deserved sleep. Rosie was cute, but she was a handful and sometimes Neil didn’t know how to handle her, let alone babies in general. He sat on a sideways-facing seat of the bus, with his eyes closed. It was quiet, it was a decently long trip for a nap, and Neil might as well have taken it.

However, he was startled awake when his phone chirped an alert. He sighed, not yet used to the alerts, and got it out of his pocket to look at the message.

_Tomorrow five PM. Wymack says he has a belter._

Neil smiled briefly, and wanted to write how he’d be in the house anyways, so it wouldn’t matter. He put the phone away and looked off into the distance of the bus. A couple of people walked along the gangway heading for the rear and Neil noticed a pretty woman with long red hair sitting a few feet to his right on a forward-facing seat. She met his gaze and smiled at him. Neil briefly returned her smile but it was more forced than anything, and looked away shortly after.

After a few minutes, the woman was still smiling at him when he glanced back. A little self-consciously he ran his right hand over his hair and she lowered her eyes and looked at a piece of paper in her hand.

Someone rang the bell to alert the bus to halt at the next stop and Neil stood, casting one more glance at the smiling woman before getting off even if it wasn’t his stop. It was unsettling to have people’s attention, and he didn’t mind walking into the city a little bit to get home. 

The bus pulled up at the bus stopped and several passengers, including Neil, got off. He walked along the side of the station and then turned to look in the side window, seeing his face clearly reflected in the glass. He had a large plastic daisy-like flower tucked behind his left ear and pursed his lips, swatting to get it away. Goddamn, Rosie.  
  
Once at home, a distance away, he walked in to see Minyard sitting in his chair, wearing a camel dressing gown and his hands steepled just under his mouth. Wymack was standing just inside the door, as expected from the text.

“Hey.” Neil said, once he came in. “He says you’ve got a good one, Wymack.”

“Oh yeah.” Wymack huffed.

 

 

 

Over the sight of silver helium balloons and the sound of singing, cheering and applause, a white plaster bust of Margaret Thatcher was stationed in one of the rooms where a man - the one who was celebrating his birthday - kissed his wife as the party was going on in the room nearby.

“God, fifty! Where did it go?! I know for a fact I was only twenty-one this time last week!” The man said.

“Yeah, well that’s impossible, Patrick, because that’s before you met me and-”

“There never was such a time!” They both said simultaneously before kissing again.

The wife backed away a little and frowned. “She’s looking at me disapprovingly again.” She looked across to a nearby table. Patrick followed her gaze to the white plaster bust of Thatcher.

“No, she’s just jealous.” He said.

“Yeah, well, I think we both are.” Then a phone in Patrick’s pants buzzed.

“No, no, Patrick. Come on, you promised.” The wife said.

He looked at his phone. “Oh, it’s a Skype call.”

“Oh, then, that must be Charlie. At least he’s phoning, I suppose.” The wife smiled.

Patrick took the call and a live image of their son, probably in his early twenties, appeared on the screen. There was a snow-covered mountain range behind him. “Oh, look! Hello!” Patrick cheered.

“Hey, Dad!” Charlie smiled wide. The wife waved into the phone’s camera.

“Happy birthday! Sorry to miss your party but, uh,” He tilted his head towards the background. “Travel broadens the mind, right?” He turned the phone a little to give a better view of the mountains, then the image started to fritz and a loading icon appeared as the image froze.

Patrick shook the phone. “No, picture’s frozen.”

Then the image shut down altogether.

“Yeah, signal’s rubbish, but I can still hear you.” Charlie said in the audio. Patrick put the phone to his ear.

“Why-why is it rubbish? Where are you?”

“How is he? Is he eating? Ask him if he’s eating.” The wife said as Patrick shushed her.

“Patrick! Emma!” A couple came over to greet them.

“No, no, hang on a sec. I’ll-I’ll find somewhere quieter.” Patrick walked away as the couple kissed Emma’s cheek and the wife stayed to chat. “So, Charlie, where are you? ...Are you there?” The father asked as he was a distance away from the party.

“Sorry, I’m here. I’m just a bit…” Charlie trailed off on the phone.

“You all right?”

“It’s nothing. Probably just the altitude.”

“Altitude?”

“I’m in Tibet! Didn’t you see the mountains?”

“Look, never mind mountains. Your mother wants to know if you’re eating properly.” Patrick laughed.

“Listen, Dad, could you do me a favour?” Charlie asked.

“What?”

“Could you just check something on my car?”

Patrick was already walking out of the open front door. “Your car?!”

“It’s to settle a bet. The guys here don’t believe I’ve got a Power Ranger stuck to the bonnet. Could you take a photo and send it?” Patrick walked to a nearby car on the drive and took a photograph of the blue Power Ranger attached to the grille. He sent the image and raised it to his ear again.

“All done. You got it? ... Charlie?”

There was no reply. He lowered the phone, sighing. The signal went out.

Better luck next time he supposed.

 

 

Back at Baker Street, Minyard was still sitting with his eyes closed as he let the information sink into his mind. “A week later,” Wymack continued on the story, explaining the whereabouts of the Welsborough family, and what the case had so far. “Something really weird happens.”

Minyard was already intrigued, it seemed. Because Neil saw him raise an eyebrow and listen throughout the whole time. Leaving the internet alone for an actual case at hand, perhaps one that could take his mind off of Riko and his plan to end everything once and for all. _If_ he was alive... Big _if_.

“Drunk driver – he’s totally smashed, the cops are chasing him and he turns into the drive of the Welsborough house to try and get away.” Wymack explained. “Unfortunately, the drunk driver speeds right for Charlie’s car and smashes straight into the back of it. Charlie’s car is pushed a few yards forward until both cars stop and that’s when the police car pulls up a little way away. Steam is hissing from the engine of the drunk’s car, and petrol starts spilling from the rear of Charlie’s car. Moments later the front car explodes in a massive fireball. The drunk guy survived; they managed to pull him out, but when they put the fire out and examined the parked car...”

“Whose body?” Neil asked.

“Charlie Welsborough, the son.”

“What?”

“The son who was in Tibet. DNA all checks out. The night of the party, the car’s empty, then a week later the dead boy’s found at the wheel.” With his eyes still closed, Minyard smiled briefly. “Yeah, I thought it’d interest you.” Wymack rolled his eyes.

“Have you got a lab report?” Minyard asked.

Wymack had already been reaching for his briefcase at his side and put it on his lap, taking out some folders. “Yeah, Charlie Welsborough’s the son of a Cabinet minister.” Neil nodded in understanding. “So I’m under a lot of pressure to get results.” He narrowed his eyes at the both of them.

“Who cares about that? Tell me about the seats.” Minyard said.

“The seats?” Neil looked to the blond.

“Yes. The car seats.” Minyard held his gaze.

Neil cleared his throat, taking the sheet of paper which Wymack was offering him, to make it look like he had something to do. Minyard sat up and held out his hand as Wymack gave him the folder. He opened it and looked at the contents. “Made of vinyl. Two different types of vinyl present.” He looked up thoughtfully. “Was it his own car?”

“Yeah. Not flash – he was a student.” Wymack said.

Minyard sat back again. “Well, that’s suggestive.”

“Why?”

“Vinyl’s cheaper than leather.”

“Er, yeah, right.”

“There’s something else.” Neil said, and Minyard looked at him, eyebrows wide. Neil pointed to the document in hand and said, “According to this, Charlie Welsborough had already been dead for a week.”

“Hm...” Minyars looked to Neil.. “So the body in the car – dead for a week? Oh, this is a good one.” Minyard looked to Wymack. “And _you_  want _my_ help?”

“Yes.” Wymack said with annoyance.

“One condition.” Wymack waited. “Take all the credit.”

Neil raised his head, looking to Minyard as if it weren’t him. “It gets boring if I just solve them all.” Minyard sighed. “I hate the press, hate people.”

“Yeah, you say that, but then Day reports about it and you get all the credit anyway.” Wymack said, while Neil huffed, giving the medical report back to him while looking at Minyard thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he’s got a point.” Neil agreed.

“Which makes me look like some kind of prima donna who insists on getting credit for something I didn’t do.” Wymack added on.

“Oh, I think you’ve hit a sore spot, Minyard.” Neil clicked his tongue, amusement written all over his face.

Minyard looked annoyed, and shook his head at Neil as if he didn’t understand what Wymack was referring to, or what his boyfriend was trying to gain out of it. “...like I’m some kind of credit junkie. So you take all the glory, thanks, thanks all the same. Look, just solve the bloody thing, will you? It’s driving me fucking nuts.” Wymack ranted on, looking frustrated and tired.

“Anything you say, David.” Neil and Wymack both give Minyard a look.

It didn’t affect him, nothing ever did.

As Wymack started packing away his paperwork, Minyard turned to Neil. Neil sighed and tried to keep the conversation going. “It’s obvious, though, isn’t it, what happened?”

“Josten.” Minyard raised his eyebrows. “You know what happened?”

“Not a clue. It’s just what you normally say that at this point.”

Minyard hid his smile. “Well, then.” He stood up and headed for the door, taking off his dressing gown, surprisingly fresh clothes underneath it. Neil didn’t know what else would have been under there, not like he thought about it often. Obviously.

Instead of his regular attire of black clothing, Minyard wore a white blouse and black tight pants. Fancier than his usual attire, more… tighter, yes. “Let’s help you solve your little problem, Wymack.” Minyard said as he saluted him and went to his room to prepare.

Wymack looked to Neil with a grin, for a reason other than the clothes Minyard was wearing. Probably grinning from the fact that Minyard agreed to the case, and not the latter. No, the latter was why Neil was grinning.

“So how’s it going then, being a godfather?” Wymack asked.

“Yeah. Not used to it.” Neil wondered if Day told Wymack about him being his dad. Did that happen? He forgot. Honestly he had forgotten about a lot of things. However, thinking about being a godfather was weird. It implied he was responsible for the child if something were to happen to the parents. To Boyd and Wilds. That it implied Minyard and him had a responsibility together, possibly as dads. Which was kind of weird. Neil had no idea what to think of that. They didn’t even know themselves if they would make a future together, as of the moment it was presumed just  _boyfriends_.

“Don’t worry. Children are easy, once you get the hang of it. Dan has been telling me you help out when she needs sleep. That’s good.” Wymack continued on, seeming obvious by Neil’s sudden mental breakdown.

“Yeah, me and Minyard have tried to help as much as we can.” Neil confirmed.

“I never thought I’d see the day of you two as parents.”

“Me neither.” Neil smiled. “But we technically aren’t. Just helping out. Supporting, you know?”

They stood up once Minyard was ready, wearing the same thing but with a black coat over the top. Neil tried not to look at him the whole ride in the car.

It was a bit of a struggle.

  

 

The boys were walking along the drive towards the house where Patrick Welsborough lived and his wife, Emma. Wymack had to go back to report some files, letting the boys do what they did, so Day came along. Once hearing the news of Day's coming, Andrew groaned deeply.

“Charlie’s family are pretty cut up about it, as you’d expect.” Day told them. They both ignored him. “So, because they are rich people who help the social echeladder... Andrew behave, okay?” Andrew saw Josten smile slightly by the order coming from Day.

Fucking Day.

Josten’s phone rang and he answered it. Seeing as it was Boyd, he put him on speaker for them all to hear, “Hey, hello!” Boyd said on the other line.

“Got them, don’t worry. Pampers.” Josten told him. Andrew wondered how much ‘help’ Josten was giving Boyd if he was buying them diapers and other kiddie items. Andrew guessed it was because Wilds was busy being a cop and getting them all money, as Boyd volunteered to stay at home, taking care of Rosie. Most of the time he did not know what to do, Boyd made that perfectly clear. But he was trying, and sometimes needed little rests from time to time. Hence where Andrew and Josten came along.

“Yeah, never mind about that.” Boyd said. “Where are you now? At the dead boy’s house?”

“Yeah.”

“And what does he think? Any theories?”

“Uh, well, I texted you the details.” Josten pursed his lips. Josten seemed to be getting Boyd involved in most cases they did, so he could be filled in while he was on his own maternity leave for Wilds' sake.

“Yeah, two different types of vinyl.” Boyd told them. Andrew looked round as Josten gave Andrew the phone, knowing well he'd be interested in what Boyd had to say.

“How do you know about that?” He asked.

“Oh, you’d be amazed at what a receptionist picks up. They know everything!”

“Solved it, then?” Andrew raised an eyebrow, even though Boyd could not see him.

“I’m working on it.” Boyd said.

“Oh, Boyd, fatherhood is slowing you down.” Andrew told him. There was a gasp on the other end, and before Boyd could retort, Andrew handed the phone back to Josten, approaching the front door of the house.

“So, what about it, then?” Boyd asked. Andrew glanced upwards as they stepped into the porch. “What, an empty car that suddenly has a week-old corpse in it? And what are you gonna call this one, Day?”

“The Ghost Driver.” Day said. He filed the reports and wrote about the cases, it was in the job description. He was the one who came up with each enticing title and Andrew hated it. It was cheesy.

So he spoke his opinion. “Don’t give it a title.”

“People like the titles.” Day turned to him, shocked.

“I hate the titles.”

“We have to give the people what they want, Minyard.”

“No, never do that. People are stupid. People talk.”

“Yeah, _some_ people.”

“ _Most_ people.”

Andrew straightened up again, getting the last word with Day. Josten smiled at the two, and wished Boyd good luck, switching off the phone.

They headed towards a nearby closed door and knocked. While waiting, Andrew looked up and raised an eyebrow. There was a cracked motion sensor and the porch light was on in broad daylight, which seemed weird gathering they were usually used at night.

Finally, a man opened the door and greeted the three of them, soon after leading the boys into a room. Charlie’s parents were sitting on a sofa and they stood up quickly after seeing Andrew walk towards them. “Mr. and Mrs. Welsborough.” He greeted nonchalantly. “I really am most terribly sorry to hear about your daughter.” He did not look sorry in the slightest.

“Son.” Josten corrected.

“Son.” Andrew repeated.

“Mr. and Mrs. Welsborough, this is Mr. Andrew Minyard.” Day introduced them to the detective.

Patrick nodded. “Thank you very much for coming. We’ve heard a great deal about you. If anyone can throw any light into this darkness, surely it will be you.”

“Well, I believe that…” Andrew glanced to his right and trailed off when something caught his attention.

Patrick was talking but his voice was faded out in Andrew’s mind as he concentrated on what he spotted across the room. It was small round table in front of the window. The light in the room was blue and wavy from the window. At the back of the table was a framed large white card on a stand, and the card was an invitation to Patrick, attending a reception at 10 Downing Street, sent by Margaret Thatcher. It seemed rather old, so not new. Tacky and boring.

To the left was a framed official photograph of Thatcher and to the right was a framed photo of her and Patrick. Andrew didn’t want to to name all what was on the table, but there were a lot of items belonging to or about Margaret Thatcher.

It looked similar to a shrine.

“Minyard?” Josten snapped him out of his daze.

The Welsboroughs looked towards the window, then turned back to Andrew. “Mr. Minyard?” Patrick asked.

“You were saying?”

“Well, Charlie was our whole world, Mr. Minyard. I,” He paused. “I don’t think we’ll ever get over this.”

Nodding, Andrew turned his head toward the table again. “No, shouldn’t think so.” The Welsboroughs looked at him again, startled at his indifferent tone. He continued to stare at the table, frowning, then pulled in a breath and looked at the couple. “So sorry. Will you excuse me a moment?” He walked closer to the table. Patrick looked at Josten and Day.

Josten cleared his throat and followed Andrew, who was looking at the items displayed onto it. “Now, what’s wrong?” He asked him silently so the others wouldn’t overhear.

“Not sure. I just ... By the pricking of my thumbs.” Andrew quoted. He had an intuitive feeling, a foreboding.

“Seriously? You?” Josten asked.

“Intuitions are not to be ignored, Josten. They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.” He said, turning to the Welsboroughs while pointing to the table. “What is this?” He asked aloud.

“Oh, it’s a sort of shrine, I suppose, really. Bit of a fan of Mrs T. Big hero of mine when I was getting started.” Patrick answered.

“Right, yes.” Andrew bent down to look more closely at the table, then frowned and straightened up again. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who is this?” He gestured to the table.

“Are you serious?”

“Andrew…” Day started.

“It’s ... it’s Margaret Thatcher, the first female prime minister of this country.” Patrick scoffed.

“Right.” Andrew looked at the table again, skimming every item. He raised an eyebrow. “Prime minister?”

“Mm. Leader of the government.” Patrick started to sound a little bit irritated.

“Right. Female?”

“For God’s sake. You know perfectly well who she is.” Day argued with a scary smile plastered on his face. Patrick walked away, wanting to cease the conversation immediately as Josten got closer to Andrew.

However, Josten was clever and asked, “Why are you playing for time?”

“It’s the gap.” Andrew smirked, focusing on the space between the items on the table. “Look at the gap. It’s wrong. Everything else is perfectly ordered, managed.” In the far room, Patrick sat down next to Emma and looked across to Day, who shrugged. “This whole thing’s verging on OCD.” He turned to look at the Welsboroughs, pointing back to the table as his voice was loud enough for them to hear. “My respects. This figurine is routinely repositioned after the cleaner’s been in.” He pointed to the official picture. “This picture’s straightened everyday, yet this ugly gap remains.” He pointed to the vacant spot in the middle of the table. “Something’s missing from here, but only recently.” He squatted down again to focus on the scratched leather.

“Yes, a…”

“Plaster bust.” Andrew replied for him.

“... plaster bust.” Patrick said seconds after.

“Oh, for God’s sake. It got broken. What the hell has this got to do with Charlie?” Emma narrowed her eyes at Andrew, to whom this peeked more his interest and was the exact reaction he needed.

Andrew straightened up, “Rug.” He said.

“What?” Emma asked.

“Well, how could it get broken? The only place for it to fall is the floor, and there is a big thick rug.” He pointed to the floors.

“Does it matter?” The wife snarled. Savage woman, Andrew though, strange.

“Mrs. Welsborough, my apologies. It is worth letting him do this.” Josten sighed.

Emma finally noticed his presence, if for the first time. “Is your friend quite mad?” She asked him.

“No, he’s an asshole, but it’s an easy mistake.” Andrew huffed out from Josten’s comment. No lie there.

Patrick stood up from the chair. “Look, no, we had a break-in. Some little bastard smashed it to bits. We found the remains out there in the porch.”

“The porch where we came in?” Andrew raised an eyebrow. He was getting somewhere. Not by much, but somewhere.

“How anybody could hate her so much, they’d go to the trouble of smashing her likeness…” Andrew had to disagree there. Perhaps Patrick was slightly deluded. Andrew didn’t so like her, such as the majority of the world. Of course, minus Josten. Josten probably didn’t know who the hell she was in the first place. And Margaret Thatcher wasn’t exactly… the most beautiful of Prime Ministers there were. However, Andrew didn’t really have a say because he prefered the male figures of the world. But nobody could deny a pretty women when they saw one. Whether it was to envy, to observe or to lust. And that title didn’t belong to Thatcher herself. So a fan? Not likely. Must be for the personality, or a different reason altogether in Patrick’s mind.

“I’m no expert but, er, possibly her face?” Andrew blurted out. Day closed his eyes and sighed. Josten snorted. “Why didn’t he smash all the others? Perfect opportunity, and look at that one.” He pointed to the official photo. “She’s smiling in that one.”

“Oh, this is clearly a waste of time. I mean, if there’s nothing more-”

“I know what happened to your son, Mrs. Welborough.”

The parents stared at him hopefully. “You do?” They both asked.

“It’s quite simple. Superficial, to be blunt. But first, tell me, the night of the break-in. This room was in darkness?”

“Well, yes.”

“And the porch where it was smashed, I noticed the motion sensor was damaged, so I assume it’s permanently lit.”

“How’d you notice that?” Day widened his eyes.

“I lack the arrogance to ignore details. I’m not the police." Andrew gave him a look.

“So you’re saying he smashed it where he could see it.” Josten pointed out. Andrew pointed to him to say how Josten was entirely right. “But why?” He looked to Andrew.

“Dunno. Wouldn’t be fun if I knew.” Andrew shrugged.

“Mr. Minyard, please.” Emma said.

Andrew snickered. “Don’t say that word. I don’t like it.”

Emma looked at him confused. “The word ‘Mr. Minyard’?”

"No, the other one.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Plea-”

“Tut, tut, Ma’am. Not another word and I will not solve this for you.”

Day groaned.

Patrick looked horrified. “Mr. Minyard, if you don’t-”

“It's a funny one, this. This is one of the most worthy cases I’ve had since Rosie. So, let’s start from the beginning, shall we? It was your fiftieth birthday, Mr. Welsborough, of course you were disappointed that your son hadn’t made it back from his gap year. After all, he was in Tibet.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“The first part of your conversation was, in fact, pre-recorded video. Easily arranged. The trick was meant to be a surprise, that Charlie phoned you in a Skype Call.”

“Trick?”

“Obviously. There were two types of vinyl in the burnt-out remains of the car. One the actual passenger seat, the other a good copy. Well, good enough. Charlie took a loose seat cover from the passenger seat and put it over his face and body. You walked towards the car, getting the camera ready to take the photo that he asked you to take. In the near darkness, Charlie could see what was happening through dark gauzy material inserted into the face area of the cover. Effectively a costume.”

Patrick and Emma stared in disbelief. “You’re joking.” One of them said.

“No, I’m not. What he wanted was for you to get close enough to the car so he could spring the surprise. As Patrick took the photo of the Power Ranger attached to the car’s grille, Charlie’s plan was to rip off the seat cover, grinning at his father and yelling out a happy birthday. All for a gift.” Andrew explained, miming out a tired jazz hands. “And that’s when it happened. Hidden inside the seat cover, Charlie was in pain. I can’t be certain, of course, but I think Charlie must have suffered some sort of a seizure. You said he’d felt unwell? He died there and then. No one had any cause to go near his car, so there he remained in the driver’s seat hidden until the drunken driver who smashed into his car, which exploded the remains. When the two cars were examined, the fake seat had melted in the fire, revealing Charlie, who’d been sitting there quite dead for a week.”

Emma broke down in tears. “Oh, God!” She said. Staring at Andrew in shock, Patrick reached across to comfort her.

“Poor kid.” Day said. “Really, I’m so sorry. Mr. Welsborough, Mrs. Welsborough.” He wasn’t.

Andrew walked rapidly out of the room and was soon examining the concrete on the porch. Josten and Day were right behind. “This is where it was smashed.” Andrew told them.

“That was amazing.” Day said.

“What?”

“The car, the kid.”

“Ancient history. Why are you still talking about it?”

Josten furrowed his eyes. “What’s so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher, then?” He asked.

“Can’t stand it. Never can. There’s a loose thread in the world.” Andrew told him.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean you have to pull on it.” Josten gave him a smug look.

“What kind of a life would that be? Besides, I have the strangest feeling.” Andrew looked to the taxi that was parked in the front of the house, next to his own car. “That’s mine. Josten, take the car and bring Day home.”

Josten laughed. “Why?”

“I need to concentrate, and I don’t want to hit Day. Okay, maybe I do, but honestly that’s too much hassle with the aftermath of it all.”

After watching Josten and Day walk to Andrew's parked car, he got in the taxi and told the driver his destination.

 

 

Andrew had taken off his coat and was pacing in front of the desk while Aaron sat behind it. “I met her children once.” Aaron told him.

“Thatcher?”

“Rather arrogant, I thought. Like herself.”

“ _You_ thought that?” Andrew huffed, the most arrogant person out there thought some lousy children were arrogant. “Speaking of children, did Wilds make you take care of the baby yet?”

Aaron gave a look of disgust. That answered Andrew’s question. He would have paid to watch it unravel. But Andrew was an ass, and liked to rile people up himself. “What do you think of her?” He asked.

“She looks very…” He paused. “Fully functioning.”

“Is that really the best you can do?”

“I’ve never been very good with them.”

“Babies?”

“Humans.”

Andrew nodded, he understood that at least. He plopped down on one of the chair and stared at Aaron rather sternly. “Riko. Did he have any connection with Thatcher? Any interest in her?”

“Why on earth would he?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Aaron sniffed, then leaned forward and opened a folder on his desk. “In the last year of his life, Riko Moriyama was involved with four political assassinations, over seventy assorted robberies and terrorist attacks, including a chemical weapons factory in North Korea, and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the Black Pearl of the Borgias – which is still missing, by the way, in case you feel like applying yourself to something practical.”

“It’s a pearl. Get another one.” Aaron rolled his eyes at his brother’s comment from an item of rather importance in the world. “There’s something important about this.” Andrew told him, finally. Not talking about the Pearl. “I’m sure. Maybe it’s Riko. Maybe it’s not. But something’s coming for either me or Josten, and I don’t know what.” Aaron frowned at him, probably not thinking the same.

“Are you having a premonition?” Aaron mused.

“The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable, as inevitable as mathematics.”

Aaron briefly smiled. “Appointment in Samarra.” He said.

“What?”

“The merchant who can’t outrun Death. You always hated that story as a child. Less keen on predestination back then.” Andrew narrowed his eyes. He remembered the story as a child. It about about a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise, and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, Aaron told him. Andrew always mocked him at that because his brother told him it was his own persona. The story followed suite; the merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for there he was sure Death could not find him. But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for him, the grim figure of Death. ‘Very well,’ said the merchant. ‘I give in. I am yours. But tell me, why did you look surprised when you saw me this morning in Baghdad?’ Then Death said, ‘Because, I had an appointment with you tonight – in Samarra.’

Yeah, to this day it still didn’t make much sense to Andrew. He thought it a nuissance.

“I’m not sure I like it now.” He admitted. Andrew picked up his coat from the chair in front of the desk and started to put it on. Ready to leave his brother after another meeting filled with boredom.

“You wrote your own version, as I remember. Appointment in Sumatra. The merchant goes to a different city and is perfectly fine.” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Goodbye, Aaron.” Andrew ignored him and turned to the door.

“Then he becomes a pirate, for some reason.” Aaron continued, a smug look on his face.

“Keep me informed.” Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Of what?”

“Absolutely no idea, but it made you stop talking so I’m good with that.”

Then Andrew left to a rather unamused Aaron.

 

 

On the first floor landing, Reynolds was standing outside the closed door of the living room tapping a finger against a folder she was holding. She turned as Wymack trotted up the stairs holding a brown paper bag. “Allison.” He greeted.

“Wymack.” She mused.

“You, uh,” He pointed to the closed door.

“He’s just got a client.” She rolled her eyes.

Wymack nodded, then wanted to ask one of the most serious questions, because nobody really did establish where it would go from here on out. So he asked, “You doing okay with Gordon?”

She looked startled for a little bit, as if not expecting the question. “I’m doing fine.” She nodded. “Genuinely fine. It hurt for a while, but Seth was an asshole. Life happens, it was nobody's fault but that dickwad Riko. Honestly. If Josten comes to me one more time saying how sorry he is and how it’s his fault, I’m going to… Actually I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’ll think about it.” She then pointed to the door. “However _him_ , I’m mad with because I’ve been pestering him over a case for a while now and he just won’t fucking listen. Too busy with whatever the fuck he’s doing. My guess, Josten.”

Wymack hummed.

“I mean, he loves a really tricky case. So why the fuck not this one?” Reynolds sneered.

“What’s the case?”

“Well, uh, Interpol think the Borgia Pearl trail leads back to London, so-”

Wymack looked surprised. “The Borgia Pearl. They still after that, are they?”

“Yeah. So I’ve been meaning to ask. How did you find out Andrew was worthy enough for an unpaid job? Like where did you two meet? I'd have thought a midget like him wasn't capable of keeping the eye of an Inspector. He doesn'r swem like th type to walk into a police department, wanting a job.”

“Oh, I was stuck on a case about ten years ago. Nobody could figure it out. There was an old lady found dead in a sauna, nobody knowing how she died or by whom. He was at the gym at the time we investigated the scene, I'd say he was 17 years old maybe... and happened to have walked across some police officers talking about the case and the details he had. He thought it intersting, and snuck into the crime scene, somehow past the officers, and came up to me, pointed to the body and said it was hypothermia before even investigating the fucking body itself. Then he-”

The door hurled open and Minyard was there, glaring at them. “Will you two keep it down?” He slammed the door shut behind him. Reynolds and Wymack raised their hands in defense and muttered a, “Sorry.”

  

 

Inside the living room, Andrew walked over to the sofa, passing a man, Kingsley, sitting on the client chair. “Now, you haven’t always been in life insurance, have you? You started out in manual labour.” He told the client as the latter opened his mouth in surprise. “Oh, don’t bother being astonished. Your right hand’s almost an entire size bigger than your left.” He looked down at the man’s clasped hands and motioned to the words written down; _Glove size 10½ right and 9½ left_. “Hard manual work does that.”

“I was a carpenter, uh, like my dad.” He told Andrew.

“And you’re trying to give up smoking, unsuccessfully, and you once had a Japanese girlfriend that meant a lot to you but now you feel indifferent about.”

The client smiled nervously. “How the hell...?” Andrew looked down into the pocket on his shirt and the several small cylindrical items in it. The man smiled across to Andrew.

“Ah. E-cigarettes.”

“Not just that – ten individual e-cigarettes. Now, if you just wanted to smoke indoors, you would have invested in one of those irritating electronic pipe things, but you’re convinced you can give up, so you don’t want to buy a pipe because that means you’re not serious about quitting, so instead you buy individual cigarettes, always sure that each will be your last. Anything to add, Josten?” He glanced briefly towards where Josten usually sat, but no answer, and no person sitting there either. Instead, floating in Josten’s chair was a red balloon with a face drawn on it. The eyebrows were tilted inquiringly and the face had an impressed smile. It even had Josten’s scar drawn over in the right places. The balloon was held in the chair by a piece of string wrapped around a book propped up on the seat. A moment later, the real Josten popped his head round the kitchen door.

“Yeah, yeah, listening.” He said with a fork in his mouth, licking it clean.

Andrew looked to the balloon, then back to his… Josten. “What is that?” He asked.

Josten came shuffling back into the living room, a plate of something in hand, and said, “That is... me. Well, it’s, uh, my substitute.” Andrew frowned at him, then glanced briefly towards the client.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Andrew told Josten. “You know I value your little contributions.” Josten looked away, a little flustered.

“Yeah? It’s been there since nine this morning.” He changed the subject.

“Has it? Where were you?”

“Helping Matt play Sudoku in the cafe next door. I got bored.” Andrew raised an eyebrow, Josten shrugged. “I called him up since it was Wilds’ turn to play with Rosie - she’s not working today. Then bought myself some sandwiches for lunch. Yours is in the fridge.”

Kingsley looked off with the domestic chatter coming from the two males. “What about my girlfriend?” He asked.

“What?”

“You said I had an ex.”

Andrew sighed and focused back on the client at hand. “You’ve got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow with the name Akako.” He pointed to the tattoo which was slightly faded. “It’s obvious you’ve tried to have it removed.”

“But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that I’m indifferent.”

“If she’d really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the first attempt wasn’t successful and you haven’t tried again, so it seems you can live with the slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference.” Kingsley laughed for a couple of seconds at that, then held his hands up.

“Sorry. I thought you’d done something clever.” Andrew’s eyes raise. “No, no. Ah, but now you’ve explained it, it’s dead simple, isn’t it?”

The side of Josten’s mouth twitched up into a smile. Andrew pulled in a long breath, straightening up in his seat as he turned more towards Kingsley, then he breathed out deeply through his nose. “I’ve withheld this information from you until now, Mr. Kingsley, but I think it’s time you knew the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever wondered if your wife was a little bit out of your league?” Andrew didn’t let him answer. “You thought she was having an affair. I’m afraid it’s far worse than that. Your wife is a spy.”

“What?!”

“That’s right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. She’s been operating deep undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the US president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than Riko Moriyama.”

“What?!” Kingsley repeated, more shocked than ever. Convinced by Andrew’s serious tone.

“Riko will then use the president as a pawn to destabilise the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating…. World War III.” Andrew told him.

“Are you serious?” Josten chuckled slightly.

“No, of course not.” Andrew stood up. “His wife left him because his breath stinks and he likes to wear her lingerie.”

“I don’t!” Kingsley stood up with him. Josten quirked a look at him. Kingsley flushed and mumbled, “Just the bras.”

Andrew opened the door and gestured outside. “Seems our time is done, now.” He told Kingsley. Kingsley stood up and left the room, walking between the waiting detectives outside. Andrew pushed the door shut again and sighed, turning to Josten.

“So.” Josten started. “What’s this all about, then?”

“Having fun.”

“Fun?”

“While I can.”

Josten hummed.

There was a knock on the door and Reynolds opened it and came in without hesitation or invitation. She was about to open her mouth but Andrew gave her a stare. “Borgia Pearl, boring, go.”

“What?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I said go.” He pushed the door shut once again. Immediately, Wymack opened it back up and came in. Andrew looked exasperated. “Oh, this had better be fucking good.”

“Oh, I think you’ll like it.” Wymack told him.

From the paper bag, Wymack produced a clear plastic bag and held it up. Inside were shattered pieces of white plaster, and some of the larger pieces showed that it looked like a bust of something. Andrew knew immediately what it was. He took hold of the bottom of the bag and looked at it closely.

“That is the bust, isn’t it? The one that was broken.” Josten said.

Wymack shook his head. “No, it isn’t. It’s another one. Different owner, different part of town. You were right. This is a ... this is a thing. Something’s going on.” Andrew looked at the bag and for a moment, he gazed intensely at the item. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

“You don’t look pleased.”

“This is my pleased face.”

Josten raised his eyebrows, a slight smile forming.

Shortly afterwards Minyard was sitting at the kitchen table examining pieces of the broken plaster under his microscope. Neil and Wymack stood nearby. “Another two have been smashed since the Welsborough one; one of which belonged to Mr. Mohandes Hassan.” Wymack told Neil.

“Identical busts?”

“Yeah, and this one to a Doctor Barnicot in Holborn. Three in total.” Wymack looked at his watch. “God knows who’d wanna do something like this.”

“Yeah, well some people have that complex, don’t they – une idée fixe.” He smirked over to Minyard. “They obsess over one thing and they can’t let it go.”

“Watch it, Josten.” Minyard warned, then was displeased by what he found from the bust. “No good. There were other images of Marmalade Catcher present at the first break-in.”

“You know who she is. And it's not Marmalade Catcher.” Neil sighed exasperatedly.

“Why would a monomaniac fixate on just one?” Minyard asked, ignoring Neil. He picked up another piece of plaster with tweezers and found it instantly interesting. Well as interesting as it could get.

“What?” Neil looked up.

“Blood.” Minyard said which to anybody, it would have sounded like he was bored, but to Neil, he knew Andrew was somewhat interested in the find. “Quite a bit of it, too.” He looked to Wymack. “Was there any injury at the crime scene?”

“Nah.” Wymack looked at his watch again.

“Then our suspect must have cut themselves breaking the bust.” Minyard noted. He used the tweezers to put the blood-stained piece of plaster into a small plastic bag. “Come on.” He mused to Wymack.

“Holborn?”

“Lambeth.”

“Lambeth? Why?”

“To see Toby.”

Neil looked at the both of them and asked, “Who?”

“You’ll see.” Minyard said.

“Right.” Neil looked to Wymack. “You coming?”

“No. He’s got a lunch date with Abby that he doesn’t want to be late for.” Minyard got up and put on his jacket. “Which means we are stuck with Day once again.”

“Who told you?” Wymack looked shocked.

“The right sleeve of your jacket has long hair, obvious, plus the formaldehyde mixed with your cologne,” He pulled a disgusted face. “And your complete inability to stop looking at your watch. Have a good time, I guess.”

“I will.” Wymack looked pleased. He headed for the kitchen door onto the landing.

Once Wymack left, Neil looked to Minyard. “Who’s Toby?"

 

 

“There’s a kid I know, hacker, brilliant hacker, one of the world’s best. He got himself into serious trouble with the Americans a couple of years ago. He hacked into the Pentagon’s security system, and I managed to get him off the charge. Therefore he owes me a favour.” Minyard and Neil walked through a corridor, Minyard taking off his gloves as he reached a door. He knocked twice then stepped back.

“So, how does that help us?” Neil asked.

“What?”

“Toby the hacker.”

“Toby’s not the hacker.”

“What?”

A young man opened the door they were standing in front of, and Minyard looked to him thoughtfully. The man seemed rather surprised and scared that Andrew Minyard was there.

“All right, Craig?” Minyard asked.

“Yeah... All right, Andrew?”

Minyard looked to Craig’s feet and saw a dog. Neil looked down as well. It was a large bloodhound, with a lead attached to his collar. Minyard reached down to pet the dog and Neil smiled at the slight affection Minyard was letting out with the small pats to the dog’s fur.

As Craig nodded to Neil in greeting, his eyes diverting to the other two people. Neil looked besides him, seeing Kevin Day making his appearance. “Day, what are you doing here?” Neil asked.

“Wymack called me to come since he couldn’t.” Day looked at them like it was rather obvious. “He told me you guys said it was either him or me. I’m flattered honestly.”

“We were joking, we don’t want you.” Minyard told him.

“I’m not bad.” Day tried.

“You tell us how bad we are doing on a case, and how we should spend all our time trying to solve it instead of our useless flirting. And first of all, we aren’t flirting.” Neil narrowed his eyes at Day.

“It’s obvious.” Day said. “It would also be bad for you image.”

“What would be bad?” Minyard challenged. Day didn’t answer, just stared away. “Anyways, you can join but just don’t talk. That would be for the best.”

“Why can’t I talk?” He then pointed to Neil. “Is he allowed to talk?”

“As much as I hate it, yes.”

Neil shrugged as Day gasped. “Why can't _I_ talk?”

“He’s better at this than you.”

“Better?”

“Well, he is a runaway son of a murderer with a terrifying skill set and knows how to cooperate with me in the sense that he understands the atmosphere of the cases unlike you who doesn’t have a spine and is still stuck over Riko being back. So of course he’s better.”

Day frowned.

“Nothing personal.” Minyard added.

“What, so I’m supposed to just go home now, am I?”

Neil smirked. “Oh, what do you think, Andrew? Shall we take him with us?”

“Day or the dog?”

“Ha-ha, that’s funny.” Day narrowed his eyes at the boys.

“Well, Kevin is somewhat handy and loyal. He’s also good at annoying people and we may need that if we interrogate any suspects. So he can squeeze the information out of them whenever he’s in one of his angry rants.”

“That’s hilarious.” Day deadpanned.

Minyard hummed. “Barnicot’s house, then. Anyone up for a trudge?” He turned and walked away with Toby, who barked enthusiastically next to Neil. “Keep up. He’s fast.” Minyard told Day who shuffled behind him. Neil didn’t know if he was talking about himself or the dog.

 

 

Some time later, Toby had sat himself down on the pavement near a phone box. Day stood behind him holding his lead while Neil and Minyard stood next him with their hands stuffed into the top pockets of their coats. From Neil’s pursed lips and Day’s frown as he looked down at the dog, both boys wondered why they had been standing there for over twenty minutes. The dog didn’t even move an inch. Not to blink, breathe (well, hardly), and just stared at the tree in thought. Finally, Neil had enough. He looked up at Minyard who was in his own world and stated the obvious, “He’s not moving.”

“He’s thinking.” Minyard told Neil, annoyed.

Day idly stroked the top of Toby’s head with his fingers, and Toby whined. Josten looked down at him again for a moment before lifting his head back to Minyard. “He’s really not moving. Not an inch.”

“Slow but sure, Josten. Dissimilar to yourself.” Neil frowned and looked down at Toby again.

“You just like this dog, don’t you?” He observed.

Minyard didn’t say anything and Neil smirked. He knew Minyard had it in him. It gave Neil a weird feeling that Minyard only let the dog come for the purpose of being near a dog. Was he a dog person? Neil could have sworn he liked cats, but then again there were people who were fascinated by both. He just didn’t expect Minyard to be one with animals.

However, on the other hand, Day looked tired. “He’s still not moving.” He told Minyard.

Minyard looked down at the dog for a few seconds. “Fascinating.” He said as Day let out an exasperated sigh and cleared his throat.

Then the dog tensed up, which Neil raised his eyebrows to and started moving away into the streets once more, the dog guiding them a mile or two into the busier parts of the city. “Well? What do you make of it?” Minyard asked.

“They were looking for something.” Day told them. No shit, Sherlock.

Then, they were past the stalls until Toby finally slowed down and stopped. There was a large pool of blood on the ground and someone had thrown sawdust over it to soak up some of it. It wasn't so human as it was out of being next to a Butchery, thank god for that. Nearby a door opened and a butcher walked out with a pig’s carcass over his shoulder. Toby looked round as another butcher carried another carcass, happier than he had been before and Neil raised his eyebrows. Toby whined mournfully at the food. Minyard looked at the bloody sawdust. “Clever.” He said.

“Well, if you were wounded and you knew you were leaving a trail, where would you go?” Day asked as if it were obvious. It was, actually. However it was also a dead end. The suspect was bleeding, knew he was and that people were looking for him. Better to stay in a place filled with blood, than a place where it could easily be traced.

“Like hiding a tree in a forest.” Neil added on.

“Or blood in a butchers.” Minyard practically smirked. He went round to the front of the dog and bent down to stroke his head. “Never mind, Toby. Better luck next time, hm?” He looked around the market fo the suspect at hand, anybody that could be rather suspicious in these parts of the city.

“Think it's Moriyama?” Neil asked, watching Minyard watch the scenery. As much as that could have been said.

“It has to be him. It’s too bizarre, it’s too baroque.” Minyard continued to look around the area, his look contorting into confusion. “It’s designed to beguile us, tease us, lure us in. At last – a noose for us to put our neck into.” He walked away.

Neil and Day exchanged a concerned look.

 

 

Craig was sitting at his computer typing while Andrew stood behind him. His room was messy and looked like an exact replica of a hacker’s house - if he had ever imagined what it would have looked like. Digital utilities everywhere and cable cords you could trip over at any given moment. “Have you heard of that thing? In Germany?” Craig asked of him.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Craig.” Andrew told him as he settled himself in the room.

“Ostalgie. People who miss the old days under the Communists. People are weird, aren’t they?” Andrew hummed as he narrowed his eyes momentarily. “According to this, there’s quite a market for Cold War memorabilia – Thatcher, Reagan, Stalin.” Craig smiled. “Time’s a great leveller, isn’t it? Thatcher’s like – I dunno – Napoleon now.”

“Yes, fascinating but irrelevant. Where exactly did they come from?”

“I’ve got into the records of the suppliers – Gelder & Co. Seems they’re from Georgia.”

“Where exactly?” Andrew tried again.

“Uh, Tbilisi. Batch of six.” Andrew straightened up, looking thoughtful. “One to Welsborough, one to Hassan, one to Doctor Barnicot. Two to Miss Orrie Harker and one to a Mr. Jack Sandeford of Reading.” Andrew’s phone rang and he reached into his coat to get it.

“Wymack, another one?” Andrew asked once answering.

“Yeah.” The other person on line said and he sounded very tired.

“Harker or Sandeford?”

“Harker. And it’s murder this time.”

“Hm, that perks things up a bit.”

Andrew turned to leave, getting to his car.

 

 

 

He arrived in Harker’s garden shortly after a small drive in his car, getting Josten from the lab and leaving Day with Renee to sort out files and reports for the new dead body.

Wymack then led the boys across the garden to where Miss Harker’s body was lying face down on the grass. The forensic investigators were taking photographs as they gathered around the scene and everything was rather busy. “Defensive wounds on her face and hands. Throat cut – sharp blade.” Wymack explained.

“The same thing inside the house? The bust?” Josten asked.

“Two of them this time.”

“Interesting. That batch of statues was made in Tbilisi several years ago – limited edition of six.” Andrew said.

“And now someone’s wandering about destroying them all. Makes no sense. What’s the point?” Wymack asked.

“No, they’re not destroying them. That’s not what’s happening.”

“Yes it is.”

“Well, it is what’s happening, but it’s not the point. I’ve been slow, far too slow.” Andrew looked to him, as if Wymack was oblivious to the case.

“Well, I’m still being slow over here, so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Slow but lucky, very lucky.” Andrew was deep in thought about it. “And since they smashed both busts, our luck might just hold. Jack Sandeford of Reading is where I’m going next. Congratulations, by the way.” He told Wymack.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, you’re about to solve a big one.”

 

 

Both boys arrived at Sandeford’s house after the trip at Harker’s. Minyard told Neil that it was best of them to split up and look for anything out of place, or someone who would be leading to commit another murder and/or crime. So Minyard looked upstairs, while Neil looked downstairs.

There were people still in the house after all, and it was dead night. So they had to be sneaky about everything and not cause commotion unless necessary. A case of B&E would be bad for their reputation.

But perhaps because they were doing this out of the authority given, it wasn't as bad, however the chance of the home owner suing was a risk. If he didn't die. When Minyard suggested the B&E, Wymack made no comment whether it was illegal or not, perhaps not even knowing what their plans were and had shrugged them off with only a warning to not fuck shit up, to be careful and to not cause any more deaths than necessary. However, it was all out of the goodness of their hearts, saving a man from possible murder by sneaking into the house to catch the murderer themselves. _Goodness of their hearts_  was a wild breach, considering the situation - gathering they were just doing it for the case. Nothing more, nothing less.

Inside one of the rooms in the expensive looking house, a small table held a photo of a man holding up a trophy and smiling happily at the camera. There was also a different trophy with a carving of a man playing golf standing in front of them, and surprisingly, next to the trophy was a white plaster bust of Thatcher. The downstairs looked like a fancier communal pool and Neil was almost impressed. It was a modern place, fancy technology and had an aura of grandeur.

A floor-to-ceiling window looking through into an indoor swimming pool was the peak of the room, lighting in dark blue light.

Neil knew he had a long wait ahead of him, especially since he couldn’t leave the pool room or recreation area just outside of it unless causing an alarm for unnecessary commotion. As he found the statue, the murderer would only fall into the pool room.

Neil sighed and knew he couldn’t go out if there was a chance of Sandeford coming back - especially since he was neither the victim nor the suspect. So Neil simply wondered for a couple hours about what Minyard must be doing right now. He then realised that he should have contacted Minyard about finding the statue, therefore finding the point of all these cases, the point where the murderer could be. Which also concluded that someone was coming to smash it.

Just like he predicted, Neil heard someone come in to unlock the room. Another man was carrying a large bag as he entered the room next to the pool, turning on the lights of the room. The person walked across to the Thatcher bust, picked it up and started to stuff it into the bag.

Neil and Minyard both knew what came after the bust. A murder of some kind. First it was the son, then Harker's wife. Perhaps he had already killed Sanderford already... He only hoped Minyard had saved him before the killer found the target. Judging by the hooded man being here, either their plan didn't work out and Minyard was in trouble and Sanderford was indeed dead, or the killer had not yet found the male, seeking only for the bust.

Neil had to do something.

And the best thing he knew was the involve himself in the trouble at hand, so Neil did just that, taking off his coat and opened the pool’s door slowly.

The guy had the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head and was wearing a balaclava helmet over his face - which didn’t seem so intimidating really.

Neil cleared his throat and said, “Wouldn’t it be much simpler to take out your grievances at the polling station?”

The intruder whipped out a pistol and spun around towards Neil, who instantly slapped the gun out of his hand in reflect. Well that was fucking close. The man swung the bag up and towards Neil’s head but the latter grabbed it and threw it out of reach before punching the man in the face. His hand hurt a little as he shook off the pain, but the blow was apparently good enough to knock the man off his feet.

Apparently not for long, as the intruder returned the punch shortly afterwards. Neil swore and lashed out at him again, with more ferocity than the last and soon ended up in a full fight with this man, trading blows and kicks back and forth until both were panting heavily.

The man hurled a bar stool at Neil but the latter shimmied out of the way in time, surging in to grab the man. Neil wasn’t quick enough, the man headbutted him in the forehead and grabbed the back of his head, slamming it down onto a breadboard on the bar.

Fucking _hell_ , that hurt.

With narrowed eyes at the man, Neil wobbled back in position. He took the back of the man’s neck, dragged him down before kneeing him right in the nose. The man hurled in pain as he grabbed his nose and backed up a little, as Neil threw one last punch to the intruder who stumbled back and lost his balance.

Neil grabbed his shirt so they were face to face and pulled off the man’s balaclava to once reveal a face. “Let me guess.” Neil said, feeling blood trail down his nose to his mouth. Iron filtered his taste buds, yet Neil was used to the feeling. The man, however, didn’t look much better. “You were on the run, nowhere to hide your precious cargo.”

The man loosened from Neil’s grip as they began to circle each other once more. Neil chuckled. He wouldn’t admit that they liked this, but he knew he missed the feeling of a good fight. “You find yourself in a workshop. Plaster busts of The Iron Lady drying. It’s clever, very clever. But now you’ve met people who could uncover your plan, and you’re not so clever now, are you, asshole?” The man huffed which was more to get the blood out of his nose. “Wait until you meet my partner then, if you think I’m bad.”

“Who are you?”

“Neil Josten.”

The man looked at him murderously. “Well then,” He smirked and threw himself at Neil, forcing them to crash straight into the pool. Neil felt the water cascade over his body and then covering his face as they struggled underwater. The intruder screamed out in fury when they resurfaced, his hands around Neil’s throat before they plunge underwater again. Each of them trashing for the other to stay under, as they caught their breaths by each second. They punched and punched until it became harder and harder to breath in the chlorinated water. The pool was rather deep so it was harder to stay afloat as the man continued to try and drown Neil, Neil only continuing to kick the man in the balls so he stayed up for air. Once the man loosened his grip in pain, to grasp at his crotch, Neil gasped for a breath at the top before being plunged back down by the man once more. It never ended, really.

They continued to struggle and eventually the man ended up dragging Neil across to the Jacuzzi. His force was a little stronger than the smaller figure, he ended up hauling Neil half over the top of the Jacuzzi's counter, and shoved his head down into the water behind him, holding Neil down under. Neil gurgled out bubbles as he realised the man was trying to drown him, literally rather than trying to stay above water and using the other as leverage. Neil’s arms flailed as he tried to reach for the man’s hand. The man seemed to have triggered a sensor as water began to bubble through the pool, just like the one Sandeford used.

Neil managed to get free from the male, scratching his hands away from his head as he panted and reached to one of the sensors that poured water into the pool, and pushed onto it as the water sprayed on the intruder. He finally jerked backwards, pushing the stranger away, and turned to face him. In a matter of seconds, Neil was backhanding him, moved to grab his head and slammed him on the side of the pool. “What the fuck, man?” He growled out as the man tried to get out of Neil’s grip. But Neil was drenched and angry.

As the man repeatedly cried out while he struggled to get free, Neil took the opportunity to throw the man under the water as he, himself, tried to run out for the side of the pool and out of death’s range. The man screamed in rage and chased after Neil, climbing out and following him. He grabbed the plaster bust from the bag on the floor just as the man ran towards him. Neil swung the bust round and slammed it across his face, sending the man crashing to the floor. They were both panting heavily, and Neil seemed to have won as the man barely moved on the ground. Neil was dripping wet, both by blood and water, one more than the other, and had to move and spit out the drenched hair out his face. “Tell me about your boss, Moriyama.” He snarled.

The intruder looked up at him slowly. “Who?” He struggled.

Neil held up the bust defensively. “I know it’s him. It must be him.”

“You think you understand. You understand nothing.” The intruder spat out blood.

“Well, before the police come in and spoil things, why don’t we just enjoy the moment?” Neil held up the bust higher. “Let me present Interpol’s number one case. Too tough for them, too boring for us.” Neil looked down at the man squirming on the floor. The man rolled over onto his side and covered his head with his arm to ease the death. Neil then realised what he was going to do. He knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t be like his father and it hurt him to see what he was becoming. He wasn't going to kill the man. So Neil hurled the bust down onto the floor, as it smashed to pieces. He either did it in pain, in frustration, in anger or anguish - he didn’t know.

However, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief as he looked down at a large silver memory stick that had crashed out of the bust. Written on the side of it in dark ink were the words; _Kevin_ _Day_.

Neil's eyes locked onto the memory stick. “It’s not possible. How-” He reached down and picked the stick up. This was the same memory stick Day gave to him with all of the Moriyamas secrets on it, his life and of Day’s. But Minyard put it in the fire the moment he gazed at it, deeming it as not important for today - nor ever. Neil stared in confusion, the intruder had finally seen his pistol nearby and reached for it.

“I don’t understand.” Neil said, oblivious to the man besides him.

The man turned towards Neil in question.

“He... It can't be.”

“He...” The intruder repeated as he got up from his position with trembling strength, his face anguished and his eyes full of tears, and raised the gun to point it at Neil. “You know him.” Neil frowned and slowly raised his head to look at him. Information suddenly kicking in. “You do, don’t you? You know the son of a bitch. He betrayed me, betrayed us all.”

Approaching police sirens could be heard outside. “Kevin. This is about Kevin.” Neil said, eyes wide. “You’re from Evermore, aren’t you?”

The man snarled, cocking the gun which only affected Neil slightly. Not as much as the new information given to him - or well, deduced. “You’re not Neil Josten, are you? You’re something more, something we were expecting but never achieved.”

Neil turned to him. “And Evermore isn’t just an Exy team, is it?”

It finally made sense. To why Kevin left, to why Riko had all that power. To why nobody ever heard of the graduates from Evermore ever again, why they didn't automatically go to Court, to where they went and where they would go, what they would do and how they would get there. It wasn’t just the Moriyama’s after all, it was _all_ of Evermore.

The police cars had stopped howling but the lights blasted into the pool's glow, Minyard had apparently called Wymack which meant Sanderford was dead. And he knew Neil was in trouble. Even with the police surrounding them, Neil was focusing more on the person at hand than anything else around him.

The intruder glanced in the direction of the sound but then looked back to Neil. “Give it to me.” He nudged towards Neil with the gun. Neil didn’t comply. The man screamed once again, “Give it to me!”

“Come out slowly. I wanna see your hands above your head.” Neil heard Wymack call out from outside, probably on the speakerphone he loved so much. The floor-to-ceiling windows of the pool were clearly visible from the outside, and it was obvious the police could see what was happening. Apparently this was on the intruder’s side of things, because he grabbed Neil by the hair and put the gun to his head. “Nobody shoots me! Anyone shoots, and I kill this man!”

“Lay down your weapon. Do it now!” Wymack called out and Neil finally caught the look of their faces through the windows seperating them. The cars, the people, Wymack and finally standing with them was Minyard - his gaze dark and furious.

The intruder wasn’t having it, he walked slowly to the back door with Neil still in position. “I’m leaving this place. If no one follows me, no one dies!” He told them.

“Lay down your weapon! Let the man go!” Wymack repeated.

“You’re policemen. I’m a professional!” The man laughed hysterically. He looked at Neil and spoke more quietly, making sure his face was within his personal space. Neil winced. “Tell him Kevin he's a dead man. A dead man walking.”

Neil snarled. “He’s my friend, and he’s under my protection. He's never mentioned anybody, especially none of the Evermore assholes, so  _who_ _are you_?” Neil held onto the hands pulling him by the hair, to loosen the grip and soothen the pain.

“I’m the man who’s gonna kill your friend.” The man laughed, making Neil flinch. “Now, who’s Neil Josten? Because the last time I heard, you went by something like... a Wesninski.”

Neil spat in the man’s face and shifted his aim so the man fired at the sensor beside the door to the pool room instead of Neil himself. It exploded and all the lights went out except for a couple of up-lighters at the far end of the pool. A high-pitched alarm began to sound and a white light strobbed in the pool room, causing Neil’s ears to ache as he went down. The man turned and ran for the door, ignoring Neil.

Neil watched him go for a moment, not really caring about his leave, only concentrating on the memory stick in hand. He was sore, tired and winced whenever he dared so breathed. But he didn’t want to move. Not even when the police were all around him and over the crime scene. Not even when Minyard took all of his will power to get Neil to talk to him. Neil didn’t speak, not until Minyard had finally dragged him out of the building and to somewhere safe. Somewhere where he could analyse everything given to him, and make the pain stop. Make the ringing in his ears stop. And where his haywire mind ceased to process everything.

Evermore knew. They knew of Neil.

And they knew a hell of a lot more than the Exy they were born to learn.

 

 

Neil was sitting on the sofa back at home, holding the memory stick by one end and repeatedly tapping it against the fingers of his other hand while he frowned in concentration. He had dark bruises all around and cuts under his left eye, his chin and his lip was split in two. His neck looked like it just ran into a BDSM club and cursed at what else could be hidden under his clothes.

The door finally opened and Minyard came in, holding out a cup of coffee for Neil and himself. “Well?” Neil asked.

“He can’t have gotten far. We’ll have him in a bit.” Minyard told him. Neil explained the situation the moment Minyard got him to talk. The moment they were back home - safe and away from anything dangerous.

“I very much doubt it.” Neil told him, looking away as he felt the tips of his fingers heat up at the touch of the warm glass.

“Why?” Minyard asked, settling down next to Neil and looking over the memory stick Neil was prior to holding.

Neil took a sip of his cup. “Because I think he used to work with Kevin.” Minyard raised an eyebrow, wanting Neil to continue on. Neil didn’t know if he was up for it, but knew this was Andrew. He could trust Andrew. He would always in the end.

So he sighed and looked up to the blond. “Kevin’s old team, Evermore. It wasn’t just an Exy team. He was stuck there, involuntarily. Against his will. I’m guessing it applied to everyone else there too, in exception to Riko of course.” Neil trailed off. He was quiet for a while, wondering how he could explain this in what he only knew, or what his theory could be. “But did you ever wonder how Riko was able to commit such crimes? Where he got the power he had? Why he had such influence over his former teammates than a normal captain should have?” Minyard didn’t say anything, just listened. He watched every habit Neil was doing, the playing of his sweater strings. The fiddling of his thumbs. Simply waiting for the other to talk. “It’s because the mafia Riko is in, it goes all the way back to Evermore as well. They used Exy as a cover-up for what they are, which is why it’s fading away. To why you don’t find Evermore players in Court, even if they considered themselves the best players around.

“The people there were forced to be apart of it, the Moriyamas needed new people. New “players”, being recruited or rather much forced. It all made sense when I talked to Jean that day. When Day showed me the memory stick last Christmas. It just... all makes sense. Jean’s family owed the Moriyama’s a life sentence. Instead, they gave up Jean for the team. The Moriyama’s couldn’t just have wanted an Exy team out of that, right? He couldn’t have just made such a huge deal for a _player_? No, it was more than that. Each player was a pawn for the organization - for the Moriyamas. Jean was sent off by Ichirou himself, so everyone could have a grudge against him but they couldn’t go past the laws of their master. But Kevin? Kevin ran away. He left without authorization. Meaning people would be out for him. The people he betrayed, the people working in Evermore. They want Kevin. And it wouldn’t be against the rules anymore since he ran. He'd be considered a coward to take down. Not a survivor who earned his leave.”

“So this whole case is about Kevin and not Riko?” Minyard raised an eyebrow.

“Well, technically. That’s what I was thinking at first. But I now understand what role he plays in this. If he’s presumably dead, then how could the organization continue to want Day, continue to follow rules if their beloved captain wasn’t there?” Neil pursed his lips. “Why would they stay if there was nobody besides Ichirou to _make_ them stay?”

“Perhaps Ichirou still wants them.”

“You and I both know that isn’t true. Ichirou is the most reasonable Moriyama out of them all. Tetsuji wouldn't have wanted it, neither would Riko. But Ichirou let Jean go because perhaps he doesn’t want to players to go against his will. Perhaps it was causing too much attention after Riko’s death. I made sure of that. So how would they still be here after Riko died?”

“Unless Riko wasn't dead.” Andrew answered for him. “But he was shot and killed by his own brother.”

“That’s where I’m stuck.” Neil admitted. “We need to end this case. Find out what really happened to Riko Moriyama.”

  

 

Kevin was wearing a raincoat with the hood pulled up over his head. He walked along a path towards a church, lighting the way with a flashlight. Rain was pouring down and there was thunder echoing in the sky. He made his way to a small wooden door with a _No Entry_ sign on the front. Kevin pushed open the door and went inside, closing the it behind him.

Walking into a small room, he realised it had been set up like it was a home in itself. A sofa and a couple of hard plastic chairs were in the room, even a couple of desks. One of which had an open laptop and one with a lamp instead - he was impressed by how cramped up this all was in a simple, everyday church hall.

A few other lights were dotted around the room but it was still quite dark inside, even Kevin had to squint slightly to see. He pushed back the hood of his coat and met Neil who was smoking a cigarette indoors, looking like he had been beaten to hell and back.

“That was quite a text you sent me.” Kevin told him, knowing well the text was a simple one of four words; _We need to talk_. “What’s going on?”

“I honestly expected the black pearl.” Neil told him. “From all the cases Andrew was showing me, to the most recent one he refused to solve. I thought the black pearl would have been in the Thatcher busts.” Neil fiddled with the memory stick he was holding, turning it between his fingers in the other free hand. Kevin tensed up and narrowed his eyes at the stick.

“That’s-”

“Yes, it’s yours. But you gave this to me, and Andrew burned it. Except this one belongs to someone else. Who?”

“I don’t know. There were many. About 22 of us.” Kevin gestured at the device. “Well, haven’t you even looked at it yet?”

“I glanced at it, but I’d prefer to hear it from you. I know most of what happened, but you still need to fill me in, Kevin. So I have a simple question for you. _Why_?”

“You know of my mother, right?” Neil hummed, focusing his attention on Kevin as he blew out smoke. “She founded Exy, with Riko’s father. He used it as a coverage for what he does. What he does alongside your father. When she died, they took Exy around the world and made their organization bigger.” Kevin explained. “You know the rest.”

“I do. But that’s not what I want to here, Kevin.” Neil snarled. “Where’s Riko?”

“What?” He looked confused.

“You know, don't you? Because you knew they’d be after you. Knew that they would try and kill you for escaping, because you knew what they were like and what they were capable of. You were scared of Evermore and the Moriyamas. Which is why you came to Andrew after Riko went a little too far, putting you in police custody for a crime you didn't so commit. Even under duress, he had hurt your hand to make sure you wouldn't play anymore. The one you both use to play Exy with, and to shoot a gun.“ Kevin's face paled. “Explains why you let yourself become Riko’s pawn for his little show - before he died. You did it all on purpose, not to satisfy Riko or Evermore, but to satisfy Andrew into keeping you. To gather his attention and to take you in for protection.”

Kevin stammered, stepping back a little. “That’s not-”

“Oh, but it is.” Neil mused. “I’m right, aren’t I? You knew the charges wouldn’t go against you, you wanted to be safe because being part of the mafia was not something you’d want to do. You just wanted to play, but you’re fate wasn’t involved in the sport after that little accident, and it never would be again.”

Kevin sucked in a breath.

“Are you happy, Kevin?” Neil finally asked after figuring out the conclusion to his theory. He needed Kevin on his side, needed him to help them out. The teasing was all fun and games, that was until they actually realised he was an important aspect to the plot of all these cases - and to Riko Moriyama himself.

“No.”

“You can still play, you know.” Neil told him. “You can play like Jean, perhaps even with him. You love Exy, and I know that of you. I’ve known you long enough that this life isn’t the one you truly value. You don’t want to be with Riko. But only if you help us solve this case. Kevin we need you. So you have to tell me all you know about Riko.”

“I can’t. Besides, you aready know what is needed to know.”

“But they are coming for you, Kevin.” Neil sighed. “I fought with one today. He told me to tell you that you're a dead man walking.”

“Fuck, Neil, I don't know what to do. I suppose I was always afraid this might happen, that something in my past would come back to haunt me one day. I wanted to run away, thought everything was over after the fall. After that day. That I could at least be of use with you all. What a fucking mess this all is.” Kevin was almost frantic. He still had his sanity, but it was slowly decreasing into a panic attack.

“As much as you annoy the hell out of me, Kevin, you’re valuable and important. Stay close to Andrew and I, and we will keep you safe from him, from them. I promise you.” Neil hardly made promises. Kevin knew that.

However, even with knowing it, Kevin wondered what the fuck this would come to. He looked around, then to Neil. A look both thoughtful and wary at the same time. “There’s something I think you should know.” He told Neil. Neil looked at the piece of paper Kevin was holding out with his gloved hand, one to which he didn't notice before.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this.” Day put the paper into Neil’s bare hand and watched him as he unfolded it. However, when Neil was busy reading a blank paper, his nose flared up with the smell of chemicals, and his his vision started to go fuzzy. “What are you…?” But Kevin’s hands were around Neil’s nose and mouth. Neil started to wobble backwards, staring at Kevin, furious and angry. He tried to get to the man but his balance faltered and Kevin supported him onto the chair behind them both.

Neil tried to get up but had no willpower to stop and his eyes were blurring and closing shut by the second. His mind turning over itself with the smell of the toxins. “I’m sorry, Neil.” Kevin put the cloth away, Neil struggling to stay conscious as Kevin went to the laptop and removed the memory stick. Pulling his hood up over his head, he hurried to the doorway.

Neil sighed out a breath, his eyes starting to close.

And his vision whited out.

 

 

A few minutes later - or it could have been hours, Neil did not know - he regained consciousness. Long enough for Day to be gone, that was all he knew. Wherever it was he has run off too that was. Neil felt it was ironic how the roles had reversed. How the tables had turned. How Day may never have a spine, but was sure enough of himself to know when to flee. Neil would be proud, if it weren’t the most idiotic decision Day could make. He had no idea how to run away, nor did he he know the basics of hiding himself from the world. Neil grimaced when he stood up, and groaned when he realised the memory stick wasn’t there. Day had more trouble coming his way if he kept it. Neil had to get Minyard and fast.

Neil stumbled outside and looked around. The rain had stopped, although a flash of lightning briefly lit the sky and he wondered how he’d get home in this condition. Shaking his head to try and clear it, and perhaps he had been doubting everything to which he shouldn’t be. He groaned and hurried away to find a way to Minyard. And then, finally, to Day.

 

 

“Evermore? The Exy team? We played against them in college, I remember. The Ravens transferred to the southeastern district so they could compete with us. This transfer was kept quiet until June since the ERC recognised that Day's transfer out of Exy had already caused a backlash, especially after the robbing a couple years later, ruining his chances at Court. They blamed it on his newly found broken hand, one, Riko had caused, and two, made it seem like a motive. Of course, Riko planned it all but-”

Andrew frowned at his brother sitting in front of his desk and he tapped his fingers on the table. “What are you? Wikipedia?” He asked.

Aaron frowned..

“Evermore is part of the mafia. It’s a strategy of deceiving.”

“Oh, good. I love new secrets. All the best secret societies have them.” Aaron rolled his eyes as he looked to his brother on the opposite chair in his rather large living room. Katelyn was gone for the day, taking care of her friend, the one still bitching over Isaac.

“Team of agents, the best. But you know all that.” Andrew looked to all the papers on his brothers desk and the mail from Katelyn obviously displayed for a reason.

“Of course I do. Go on.”

“News is, they are looking for Day - also one of the team.”

“Indeed? Well, _that_ _is_ news to me.”

Andrew didn't believe it. “Is it?” He asked. Aaron lowered his head and smiled at him in a sort of way that Andrew already knew the answer to. “He’s already killed looking for that memory stick. The Moriyamas always worked for the highest bidder. I thought at some point or another, in these past few months, that might include you.”

Aaron frowned. “Me?”

“I mean the British government or whatever government you’re currently propping up. I hardly know what you actually do. Sit at a desk all day pondering on when you’ll get home to your sweetheart?” Andrew sighed, knowing well the Moriyamas would get the likeliest candidate in the government. The broody, somewhat-intelligent-with-a-high-ego, Andrew-related, would-do-anything-for-wife kind of man. A perfect target.

“Evermore were very reliable.” Aaron confessed. “Then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that. We stopped using freelancers. We stopped after we found out more about the Moriyamas. If they didn’t annoy us, we wouldn’t annoy them.”

“You realize how fucked up that sounds?”

“That or face them ourselves.”

“And why not?” Aaron sighed and wouldn’t answer the question. Pity, Andrew liked getting under his skin. So he went for another approached. “So your initiative?” He asked.

“My initiative.” Aaron repeated. “Freelancers are too woolly. Too messy. Too involved with the others. They command only one mark - that is the Moriyamas. They would deceive us if necessary. I don’t like loose ends.”

Andrew leaned forward and pulled a notepad across the desk towards himself. “There was something else; a detail, a code word.” He wrote four simple letters on the pad and turned it round to face his brother.

_A M M O._

Aaron frowned at the notepad. “Ammo?”

“It’s all I’ve got.” Andrew told him.

“Little enough.”

“Could you do some digging? You owe me much, brother.” Aaron was surprised that Andrew was actually asking something out of him. Andrew just rolled his eyes.

“I-” Aaron shook off whatever he was going to say. “And if you can find who’s after him and neutralise them, what then? You think you can go on saving him forever?”

“Of course.” Andrew stated.

“Is that sentiment talking?”

“No. It’s me.”

“Difficult to tell the difference these days.”

“Told you. I made a promise, a vow. I never break them.”

Aaron took his feet off the desk, stretching out his arms and back. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” He clasped his fingers together and leaned on the table. “But remember this, Andrew. Agents like Evermore tend not to reach retirement age, that includes Day. He could be as deceiving as the rest of them.”

 

 

Kevin was wearing a black jacket, a colourful scarf around his head, large round Prada sunglasses and a band-aid over his cheek tattoo as he waited in an airplane settling to take off from London’s airport. He was sitting in an aisle seat chewing a piece of gum and frantically looking around him. He turned to the man sitting next to him at the window seat and talked to him in a broad fake New York accent. “Pardon me. I can hear a squeaking. Can you hear a squeaking?”

The man had looked up from the book he was reading. He glanced around the cabin briefly. “No.” He said in a rich Welsh accent. He lowered his head to his book again.

“Only I watched a documentary on the Discovery Channel.” Sighing, the man lifted his head to Kevin once more. “Why Planes Fail. Did you see it?”

“Can’t say I did.” The man tried to go back to his book with no avail.

“Oh, truly terrifying. Swore I would never fly again, yet here I am!”  Kevin chuckled nervously. A male flight attendant walked over to him.

“Everything okay, sir?” He asked.

“No! No, no, it’s not, but then what’s the use in complaining? I hear a squeaking. Probably the wing’ll come off, is all.” The attendant laughed politely at Kevin’s fake humor.

“Everything’s fine, I promise you. Just relax.”

“Oh, okay, relax.” Kevin replied sarcastically with a smile. He had known Neil enough to know that personalities like this would make him less suspicious than he already was. Especially under duress of being caught at anytime or any place. He had to leave the country, for it to be safer for himself. So he acted like a spoiled funny New York kid in order to do so, even if internally he was struggling to compose himself and just wanted to be in his room he rented out, drinking until he forgot why he was drinking in the first place.

“Did you have a nice time? In London?” The passenger besides him asked, making due of the conversation.

“It was okay, I guess, but did somebody hide the sun?” He took off his sunglasses and looked to him. “Did you lose it in the war?” Faking a laugh, Kevin slapped the man's arm in humor. The passenger smiled politely and returned to his book. Kevin, chomping on his gum, turned and looked along the aisle behind him. _Just act for a little while, and you’ll be good_ , he thought to himself.

Kevin clutched on the arm rests and made sure the flight attendant was looking at him. “Oh God. I’m... I-I don’t feel so good. Oh my God.”

As Kevin lifted his hand and raised it to his mouth, the man beside him turned round from where he was looking out of the window and reached up to push the Call button. At the front of the section, two flight attendants and the one Kevin was prior to talking to, looked round at the sound of the call, coming down the aisle. Kevin was breathing heavily and gulping as if he was going to be sick. Keep acting, he told himself once more. She glanced up as the attendant arrived.

“Everything okay, sir?” The flight attendant asked once more.

“I think I’m dying. I don’t feel so good.” Kevin gasped in a few breaths.

“You’re all right.” The flight attendant started to comfort him.

“Oh.” Kevin reached out and cupped the man’s cheek in his hands. “You’re sweet. You have a very kind face.” He internally cringed but it would be best for his plan. The male attendant flushed a little. Kevin knew this was a good sign. He had to act for a few more minutes then he’d be okay.

 

 

At the airport terminal, Kevin pushed a man in his previous attire out of the bathroom as he straightened the hems of his new acquired uniform. Smiling smugly, he continued across the concourse and glanced briefly at the flight attendant disguised in the sunglasses, scarf and jacket. Eyes closed behind the shades and knocked out for a few hours or so.

Once out of the airport, Kevin put the man aside for help and pretended to go back to work, when in reality he was leaving the airport itself. Making it seem as if he left the country, his I.D stowed away onto the proceeding airlines, when in reality he would travel by any transport all but needing his facial recognition.

To another country at will, with a roll of the dice for each coordinate taken place. A place at random. All was random. All that needed just so nobody could track him anywhere, no pattern, nothing that could lead them to him.

People may have thought of him as unwise in these situations, but Kevin knew enough of Neil to know better.

He first went to Norway. Taking a boat across the cold land to a more isolated area of shoreline. Then he traveled across Europe, coming to a stone cottage, a lighthouse to stay for a few nights, and then to warehouse in Poland.

Later again, to Liechtenstein, then to Tehran. All with a dice roll.

Algeria, Morocco, Arabia. All of these places and Kevin knew he had to be as far away as he could. To just do what Neil would have done. Perhaps this way was easier, faster, safer.

Finally, at the destination he was in, having taken a few day's travel, Kevin walked into an inside marketplace. He was wearing dark slacks, a striped shirt and a long white scarf over his dark hair. He had a bag over one shoulder, and gripped onto the strap if it were his life source. It was, in a way.

He moved briskly through the stalls, checking behind himself for any sign of pursuit. Finally after walking into a narrow alleyway, he reached a doorway above which was a sign in Arabic and English - a hotel.

However, once inside, Kevin reached a door and put his head close to it as if listening for sounds inside. Drawing and cocking a large pistol, he pushed the door open and moved toward the sound of an accented male voice. The room ahead of him was an oriental style area, with orange walls and stained glass windows covered in symbols. There was a bed in front of him to his right, and the voice was coming from deeper in the room to the left. He wished he didn’t have to pull the gun, but he brought it for safe measures.

“Not like this, my friend. You haven’t got a chance, not a chance.” Kevin heard someone say round the corner, his accent thick from Arabia. Kevin moved silently forward. “I’ve got you where I want you. Give in! Give in! I will destroy you. You’re completely at my mercy!”

Kevin grimaced. Where was the vodka? He needed vodka.

“Mr. Baker. Well, that completes the set.” A familiar man said, his accent more english than anyone here. Kevin’s eyes widened in startlement.

The other male - who sounded much younger - laughed. “No it does not.”

Lowering the gun, Kevin stepped into the room. A tanned young man was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a low table with someone just in front, his back to Kevin. There were game cards on the table and they seemed to be playing one. Kevin’s nostrils flared at the other guest. A blonde british detective that he was assistant to a few days sat adjacent to the bou.

The one person he both didn’t expect to be here, and didn’t want.

“How many more times, Mr. Minyard?” The younger kid asked, almost in a whine.

Humming out an exasperated breath, Andrew said, “Maybe it’s because I’m not familiar with the concept.” Then he noticed the sound of footsteps behind him and turned, looking at Kevin for a moment before focusing his eyes back onto the card. “Oh, hello, Kevin.” He said nonchalantly.

The young male gave Kevin a furrowed eyebrow as to why he was there, but ignored it and went back to Andrew. “What concept?”

“The game. Happy families.” Andrew sneered then looked up at Kevin. “Nice trip?”

“How the fuck?”

“Kevin. There is a child present.” Andrew said.

“How did you get in here?!”

Andrew looked as if that were fairly obvious.

Grinning, the kid waved to Kevin. “Hello.”

Kevin nodded in awkward greeting, and pulled his headscarf down onto his shoulders, confused by the presence of Andrew fucking Minyard. “Karim, would you fetch us some tea?” Andrew asked.

“Sure.” Karim smiled wide and stood up, looking at Kevin once more, greeting him in before turning round the corner to someplace else in the hotel. Kevin simply stared blankly into the distance for a moment before turning his head and looking back to Andrew again.

“No, I,” He started but sucked in a breath. “I mean how did you find me?”

Andrew frowned as if he didn’t know why Kevin was surprised. “I’m Andrew Minyard. I keep my promises.”

“No, really though, how?” Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Every movement I made was entirely random; every new personality just on the roll of a dice.”

“Kevin, no human action is ever truly random.” Andrew told him. “An advanced grasp of the mathematics of probability mapped onto a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considerably. I myself know of at least fifty-eight techniques to refine this seemingly infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible variables.” Kevin nodded. “But they’re really difficult, so instead I just stuck a tracer on the inside of the memory stick.”

Kevin scoffed, then snorted. “Oh, you bastard!” He said. “The mathematics of probability?!”

“And you believed it.” Andrew shrugged.

However, once the information settled in, Kevin clenched his hands either side of his head in frustration. “In the memory stick?”

“Yeah, that was my idea.” Someone said next to them. Kevin turned to see Neil leaning against the wall and sighed. All that work - for nothing. Only for them to find him easily by a tracking device. Kevin swore silently and wondered what this meant for the future. And realised that no, he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Never compared to Neil who had done this for 20-odd years.

 

 

 

Night fell outside and in the hotel, Kevin had taken off his baggy clothes and settled down in the place Karim was letting them stay in. He was surprised by the sudden arrival of his two friends, and wondered how they came here before him. Another question for another time, he guessed.

Neil was sitting on the corner of the low table while Day stood in front of him, Minyard nearby, probably smoking by a window.

“I just,” Kevin tried to talked as Neil looked up to him. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Neil sighed and stood up from his seat. “You could have stayed. You could have talked to me. I survived, didn’t I? I was on the run, my father is still out there, and look where I am now.” Something in Neil’s voice was off.

Kevin looked away. “I’m not like you, Nathaniel.”

Neil glared in Day's direction. “That’s not my name anymore, Kevin.” His voice filled with hidden anger, however he tried to maintain himself. Breathing in, making himself calm as he paced around the room. “Listen, Day, I don’t know what you know of me. Of what I’ve done. Of who I am the heir to. I may not be a very good man, but I think I’m a bit better than you give me credit for.”

Kevin felt guilt role in his stomach, but ignored it and closed his eyes. “I don’t blame you for that.”

“Sure looks like it.” Neil muttered. “You have to trust me, Kevin. Learn to. Especially with Andrew Minyard. He doesn’t just help anybody, and he’s willing to put his life for yours. You aren’t playing Exy anymore, _this_ isn’t Exy. But you could still have the future you wanted, the one you can have. If you simply help us solve this, let us help you overall. It’s not much to ask for anybody else, but I know it's a lot between you and I. It won’t get better if you continue to do this.” Neil looked away. “Trust me on that, at least.”

”I told you, Day.” Andrew came into the room, stubbing his cigarette onto the wall and putting it away into the ashtray on the table. “I keep my promises. I will keep you safe.” Kevin looked into his hazel eyes. “But it has to be in London. It’s my city; I know the turf.”

Kevin glanced towards him briefly then returned his gaze back to Neil.

Then he saw it.

The red dot appearing on the wall behind Neil.

He pushed Neil away, behind a stack of food as the gun rang out into their ears. Andrew swore, and grabbed the low table, flipping it up onto one side to provide a barrier against the shooter. Neil went to his side where he hit the corner of the wall, and leaned against it. All the while Kevin ran for the far side of the room, rummaging in his shoulder bag for his weapon. Several shots were fired through the closed latticed door and then a man kicked the door open and marched in, his rifle raised in front of him. Kevin's eyes widened at who it was, that before him was his former teammate of Evermore. Kevin didn’t want to shoot him, he always hated it - killing others for the pleasure of an organization. Always hated being at the end of the gun he could never control, especially with the haunting figure of Riko besides him constantly telling him how bad he was, or how much better he should or shouldn’t be.

Kevin dropped to a crouch beside a bureau at the end of the room, Andrew half knelt between the other side of the bureau and another taller cabinet near the entrance, while Neil half sat up behind the upturned table.

“How did you find us?” Andrew asked angrily to the man, eyeing Kevin on the other end of the room to him.

“By following you, Andrew Minyard. I mean, you’re clever – you found him – but I found you, so perhaps not so clever. And now here we are, at last. Two for the price of one.” He looked at both Kevin and Neil. “Perhaps a bonus while we’re at it.” His gaze went back to Andrew who Kevin slid his gun over to him. Andrew caught it, and pointed it to the man. However as he did so, he looked around and raised his eyes to the light hanging from the ceiling. He stood up, fired at the light and shattered it, the distraction for a close second. Andrew then swung the pistol round to the man’s face, hitting him with the side of it. The blow was hard, which sent the man to a crouch. He chuckled slightly, blood dripping from his head somewhere under the hair. “Touché.”

“Listen, whatever you think you know, we can talk about this. We can work it out.” Kevin said frantically.

“Do you know how long that psychopath kept us prisoners; what he and his family did to me? They tortured someone to death, Kevin. I could have been next. You should have been next. But you ran away like a coward, and Riko only used you as a leverage instead of a target like any of us incompetent soldiers.” The man breathed out a sigh which turned into a laugh. “I can still hear the sound of his back breaking. Still hear the screams from everyone. Of course I have to blame it on someone. And the devil himself is dead. So guess who’s next in line.” He pointed to Kevin's cheek where the number two was always stuck on. The symbol Kevin wanted to erase, causing memories to drill into his head every time he saw it. Second in command, a pawn that would stick by Riko through everything and receive his blows for him. His teammate looked to him in anger, his nostrils flaring with hate.“But you – where were you?”

“Oh, I got out… for a while.” Kevin's eyes were in pain.

The male scoffed and his anger went back to Neil once more. Changing between the two like they were both to blame. “Or just like Nathaniel did, the coward that ran away with the family that everybody feared to challenge. He was supposed to come after you, supposed to have taken your place if you failed. You and him were meant to be Riko’s men. Yet once you both disappeared, Riko was left with nothing but a dept in human form. He was left with the rest of us. He was fucking pissed and needed something else to keep everyone distracted, to keep everything off of him while he did inexplicable things to us in anger, things that needed a while to be traced.”

“So he made sure Kevin was being blamed for smaller cases like breaking into the bank.” Neil said for him. “So Riko could cover a few days of torture, murders and even lose a useless pawn while he was at it. It was more than just hiding Evermore, it was hiding what he did in the meantime when Kevin was the distraction and draw attention of the ones who needed his help.”

The man huffed. “You turned out smart, Nathaniel. Not useless after all.” Neil narrowed his eyes as the man continued to ramble on about his horrible life. “I tried to get to you, Kevin. Put the memory stick in a statue at the factory I found. Caused a lot of problems to make sure you and your friends were alerted and got a case out of it. So you could fall into the trap where I could finally fucking kill you.” The man stepped forward but Minyard put out his gun even further to the male in warning.

“But there was another reason I hid the stick. I didn’t want that to fall into their hands.”

“Who’s hands?”  Neil asked.

“The other men.” He said. “The men of the devil himself. The people even more dangerous than us pawns. The ones who took after Riko, but did it in the worst ways possible. Not for information. Not for anything except fun.”

Neil took a step back.

“They got to me. They almost got to Nathaniel. But somehow the little prick escaped on that day where everyone else was in turn to die. Escape the cellar, the basement.” Neil’s heart was racing so fast that Kevin could hear it from over there. What did he know? What did Neil not tell them? “They tortured me. Oh, they thought I’d give in, die, but I didn’t. I lived. And eventually they forgot about me just rotting in a cell somewhere. Couple years they kept me there, until one day I saw my chance. I ran. I made sure I had determination to do so - a purpose. You know, all the time I was there, I just kept picking up things; little whispers, laughter, gossip. The word repeated over and over and over and over and over again.” The man was becoming frantic. Raising his hands to his head, gun swinging from the side.

Then the man snapped. He straightened his back and put out his gun towards the other three, at the same moment Neil broke from cover and headed across the room, sliding across the floor to grab the pistol which Andrew was already holding out to him. As the man came around the corner Neil was swift enough to meet him before he shot. They stopped inches away from each other, aiming their guns at each other’s heads. Kevin dropped to his knees behind a stool and braced his arms on top of it, aiming his pistol at the man with both hands, trembling with fear and guilt. Andrew took out his knife in case needed, knowing well he trusted Neil to do what he did best and he would be there in case things escalated from that. Everyone stopped moving at that point on. Neil’s eyes were cold and dead as he looked to the man. “You know I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate like before.” He said.

“What, you think I care if I die?” Neil pressed the gun further to the man’s head and the former teammate grinned. “Go on, do it. Be like your father. Be like the ones who’ve tortured me every night.” Kevin's eyes widened at the realisation of who they were talking about. Who the people in the basement were.  “I want your death sweeter than the one I want to bring Kevin Day. As long as I end up killing him first.” He shifted the gun to Kevin slowly.

“I’ve dreamed of killing you both every night for six years.” He told him. He leaned slightly forward so that the end of Neil’s gun was touching his forehead. “Of squeezing the life out of your treacherous, lying throat.”

“What did you hear?” Andrew called out in the background and everyone’s ears were focused on him but their eyes didn’t move from where they were looking. “When you were tortured, what exactly did you hear?”

Kevin glanced across to him as Andrew spoke then looked back towards the man pointing the gun at him.

“What did I hear?” The man laughed wildly.

He opened his mouth to form a word but hesitated for a moment.

There was a long wait. Kevin looking terrified at the sight of death in front of him, Andrew determined to know what that word was, Neil’s dead expression as he pointed the gun towards the man’s head.

“Ammo.” The man finally said. “Every day as they tore into me. Ammo. Ammo.” His voice startled to tremble. “Ammo.” He took in a shaky breath. His hand with the gun in it began to tremble. “We were betrayed.” He said, looking to Kevin. “You betrayed all of us.”

“And they said it was him?” Andrew asked. The man, however, continued to tremble. “They said his name?” Andrew asked more determined.

“They said it was the English one, the English second in command with the determined look.” He laughed and Kevin perked up at this. Second in command could be anyone, and simply wanting revenge by who Neil shared blood with was nonsense. Yet from the difference between the men of the Moriyamas, and the Moriyamas themselves, there weren’t much English people around.

Hold one, the English one?

Then it hit Kevin.

Harder than it hit his former teammate when the Moroccan policeman came into the room and fired two shots into his back. Kevin watched as he went down instantly, looking around the room from how intense it became. How the air grew thicker by the second and how suspicious all three of them looked in front of authority.

Dropping his gun, Neil stepped back as if he was not apart of this. As the policeman stood in the doorway with their guns still raised, Karim walked in carrying a tray containing four silver cups with mint leaves sticking out of them. He stopped as Kevin was breathing heavily, Neil raising his hands in defense in front of the many guns, and Andrew calculating everything in his mind.

“What happened here?” Karim asked.

But there was something digging into Kevin’s mind by what his teammate spoke of. The English one, second in command with the determined look.

“I’m fucking Irish!” Kevin shouted.

 

 

Aaron stood in the corner of the room behind his desk with one elbow on the top of a filing cabinet, the other holding his phone to his ear as he got the call from Andrew who was somehow in fucking Morocco.

“The English one, second in command. That’s all he heard. Naturally he assumed it was Kevin. But Kevin’s Irish, and he wouldn’t have known Neil was a part of it until he escaped and found out about the lost Wesninski, revenge by wanting to shed the same blood of the abuser.” Aaron recapped from what his brother told him. “Too much for my petite brain as you like to say, Andrew. Couldn’t this wait until you’re back?” He sighed.

“No, it’s not over.” Andrew sounded annoyed. “The man said that they’d been betrayed. The hostage-takers knew Evermore were coming. There was only a voice on the phone remember, and a code word.”

“Ammo, yes, you said.”

“How’s your Latin, brother?”

Aaron frowned. So this was what Andrew needed of him. He wouldn’t have called to just sum up the case, otherwise. “My Latin?” He asked.

“Amo, amas, amat.”

“I love, you love, he loves. What about it?” Then Aaron stopped.

“What the man from Evermore heard. Not Ammo as in ammunition but Amo. Meaning?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow then started to straighten up, his face stern. “You’d better be right, Andrew.” He hung up. Andrew did likewise, and the Minyard brothers started to move away.

 

 

Thea walked along a corridor with Victor, the secretary, following behind with a folder in hand. They reached a glass door which had a security panel on a stand but when Thea held her security pass against it and it beeped, reading as access denied. She touched the pass to the panel again but it beeped once more. Looking exasperated, she tried again with the same result. Behind her, Sir Edwin and a uniformed security guard approached them both.

She turned and saw the new arrivals. She looked at the security guard as he walked to stand between her and the closed door, then turned to Sir Edwin. “What’s going on?”

“I’m very sorry, Ms. Mudani. Your security protocols have been temporarily rescinded.” The security guard took one of her arms and put his other hand against her back and started to walk her back along the corridor. Victor followed them in startlement from the arrest of Thea Muldani.

 

 

In a room similar to Aaron’s office, however much smaller and more for interrogations, Thea was sitting at a small table facing Aaron. Aaron’s hands were clasped in front of him on the table and he was rapidly tapping one finger against the wood.

“This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it.” Thea gazed at Aaron. “How many more times?”

“Six years ago you held the brief for foreign operations, code name Love.”

“And you’re basing all this on a code name? On a whispered voice on the telephone? Come on, Aaron.”

“You were on the case for Evermore. Every assignment, every detail, you knew of it.”

“It was my job. It was the only thing I, and only myself, can know. To help catch the ones responsible for Evermore. Evermore was well known, but the ones who started it are in the shadows. You know this, Aaron. You know me.”

“They were betrayed. Betrayed by their very own.”

“Not by me. I don’t associate with them, I learn about them.”

Aaron just looked at her. She took in a breath and sighed it out. “Aaron, we’ve known each other a long time. I promise you, I haven’t the foggiest idea what all this is about. You wound up Evermore and all the other freelancers. You know more about them than I possibly do. All because of your intell, if anyone is the blame why not you?” She emphasized slowly. “But I wouldn’t do that. I haven’t done any of the things you’re accusing me of, either. Not one.”

Aaron looked down at the table for a moment, then turned his head to look to his left. On the other side of a one-way mirror stood Andrew, watching thoughtfully. Aaron lowered his gaze and sat forward again, adjusting his jacket.

 

 

Inside a local aquarium housed in County Hall, Andrew made his way along the blue-lit corridors and through the glass tunnels under the water dome.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Aquarium will be closing in five minutes. Please make your way to the exit. Thank you.” The announcement said in the background. Andrew was lost in his mind, his gaze distant and his eyes rapidly flickering back and forth as he tried to gather all information thrown to him in the past couple weeks. Who really was the English folk. Because Day was out of the question, as was Neil. Aaron wouldn’t associate with them, Thea denied everything. Riko was dead, and his people were Japanese as Josten’s weren’t English apart from his mother's side. They, however, were either dead or hated the Wesninskis as far as he knew.

However he had a theory, knowing well the suspect was not Thea, not that kind of Love.

Andrew continued onwards until he reached an enclosed area with benches where people could sit and look at the various tanks all around. Just as expected, just as scheduled, a man was sitting on one of the benches with his back to him. “Your office said I’d find you here.” Andrew told him.

“This was always my favourite spot for people to meet.” A smile was heard on his lips. The man, accent thick in English, continued looking forward into a tank of sharks and other smaller fish. “We’re like them. Ghostly, living in the shadows.” His voice was filled with amusement, and strive for pain. A sadist at his best.

He turned to look at Andrew. The man known as Victor - to which was the only thing Andrew knew of him. The so-called secretary of Thea. The assistant, writer of “Love”. Behind him, fluorescent jellyfish swam in another tank. “Predatory.” Andrew said.

“Well, it depends which side you’re on.” Victor turned away to look into the shark tank again. “Also, we have to keep moving or we die.”

“Nice location for the final act. Couldn’t have chosen it better myself. But then I never could resist a touch of the dramatic.”

“I just come here to look at the fish.” He stood up and took a few steps closer to the tank. “I knew this would happen one day.” He turned to face Andrew, his handbag hanging from his elbow. “It’s like that old story.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “I really am a very busy man. Would you mind cutting to the chase?”

“You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“With good reason.”

“There was once a merchant in a famous market in Baghdad.”

Andrew closed his eyes, mentally wincing. “I really have never liked that story.”

“I’m just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. I’ve always been looking over my shoulder, always expecting to see the grim figure of-.”

“Death.” Someone completing for him and Victor turned to find Day there. He came into the room and stopped at Andrew’s side a couple of feet away from him.

Andrew didn’t look to him, his eyes set on the man in front of them. “Hello, Day.” The addressed man nodded. “Josten?” Andrew asked.

“On his way.” Day said.

“Then let me introduce Amo.” He told him.

Day stared at Victor. “You were Amo?” Andrew finally looked to Day. “Using Evermore as your private assassination unit. Using Moriyama’s men to get what you want. To breach the boundaries.”

“Worked very well for a few years.” Victor smiled. “But you don’t know the full story.” He told them in a voice of pure glee of both boys not knowing why he did it, or how. He was a little mad, him. A little bit too strange for Andrew to figure out why. “Then Junior was taken hostage, escaping after a while. A shame really, could have done much things to him. Take off his legs so he’d never do it again. He made everyone burst into fury, especially his old daddy dear. It’s fun to be close to the father, what you could whisper into his ear and made him do to people. He’d agree of course, he always would. I was just there to make sure everything ran well, that is until they took my sister that one day after Nathaniel was caught. However, Riko got mad, held onto Day as he cut everyone else to pieces, and finally releasing his queen for all to see - as the bait.” He explained and Day looked to Andrew with a confused glance. Andrew was trying to figure out the pieces, wondering who Victor really was. Second in command. It made sense now, the story Josten had told him that one day. “Then what a shocker once we found out Riko was dead? I couldn’t believe our luck. That bought us loads of time.”

“But then you found out your boss had sent Evermore inside your walls. That you had control over the men of the Moriyamas, that you could torture them into doing the job for you so it was less messy for you all.” Andrew stepped closer.

“Very handy. They were always such reliable killers. We wanted Kevin dead, but we needed Junior alive.” Victor sighed like it was a nuisance to him.

Andrew wanted to know why this man had such a nickname for Neil, wondering what he was to him. “But what was the blackmail you whispered into their ears, like you said?” Andrew asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He asked.

Andrew was inches away from him now. “What was it?” He asked more serious.

“After I heard you were taking in strays, especially strays which are wanted by others, our little man that we needed. I could easily have manipulated them into thinking I could retrieve that little stray, and then have our own back in our hands.”

Andrew’s eye narrowed. “How?” Day stared at Victor, slightly startled.

“Muldani had information, easily enough that I could retrieve it. Use it. So I faked being her secretary for about a year or so. I tortured them myself, onto to the men with a nice little clue about her code name should anyone have an enquiring mind. Seemed to do the trick.” Victor smiled. “We were so close into getting Junior. In the meantime, Evermore would be mad over Kevin Day. They would have wanted revenge on somebody. So that was where little second in command came in. We are very alike, you and I.” He looked to him, smiling. “The hostages were killed, Evermore so close to being no more.” He waved his hand around to clarify himself. “Just a little peace. That’s all you wanted too, wasn’t it? A family, home, a job - Exy. Really, I understand.” Day didn’t let go of his gaze. “I wanted to get out of that damn secretary job and get back to what I did best, manipulating others into my will. To burn them all, just like I did Nathaniel. Oh, how happy I was to torture them.” He smiled slightly, it was subtle but there was a sadistic twist to it.

Andrew noticed him standing up, placing a hand on top of his bag. “So just let me get out of here, right? Let me just walk away. I’ll vanish. I’ll go forever. What d’you say?”

Victor asked, amusement written all over. His eyes filled with hunger.

“After what you did?!” Day asked furiously and started towards the man. Andrew’s eyes widened and he stepped forward, trying to stop Day before it happened. However,

Victor was quick, and pulled a pistol from his handbag and aiming it at Day, who stopped and backed away.

“Okay.” Day raised his hands.

Lowering the gun, Victor looked down at it with glee. “I was never a gun person, too easy to kill. I liked knives, lighters, anything that hurt for a while. But I always thought I’d be rather good at shooting stuff.”

“Well, you handled the operations very well.” Andrew said. Victor looked surprised at that until Andrew said, “For a secretary.”

“What?”

“Can’t have been easy all those years, sitting in the back keeping your mouth shut when you knew you were cleverer than most of the people in the room.”

“I didn’t do this out of jealousy. It’s my damn job. And how dare you call me a secretary, I-” He narrowed his eyes, trailing himself off so he wouldn't confess anything to the likes of Andrew Minyard.

“No? Maybe not to impress the Butcher himself? Perhaps be greater than your sister?” Victor gaped. Day nervously watched Victor closely, to his face and then the gun in hand.

“Andrew…” He warned.

“Being second in command always sucks, doesn’t it? You wanted the praise from Neil’s father, you wanted to torture, to lure others into a mindless game, and all for what? Yourself? For fun? No, it’s always more than that.”

“Andrew, don’t.” Day said.

However, Andrew ignored him and continued on, every word getting more stern by the second. “Pets do that, or so I’m told. There’s clearly no one new in your life, otherwise you wouldn’t be spending your Friday nights in an aquarium, pretending to act normal. Pretending that your job is nothing more than the pleasure of watching others suffer and wanting to be the best of the best - feared by everyone as the second. That probably accounts for the drink problem, too. The slight tremor in your hand, the red wine stain ghosting your top lip. So yes. I'd say jealousy was your motive after all – to prove how good you are to make up for the inadequacies of your little life.”

Victor’s gaze turned to look towards the entrance as Aaron walked in, followed by Wymack and three other uniformed police officers. Boyd, Wilds and Reynolds it looked like from the corner of Andrew's eyes.

“Well, Mr. Norbury. I must admit this is unexpected.” Aaron said as he walked closer to them.

“Victor Norbury, who outsmarted them all. All except Andrew Minyard, because Victor isn’t your actual name is it.” Andrew’s voice was filled with sarcasm. He then took a step forward, holding out his left hand for the gun. “There’s no way out.” He told Victor.

“So it would seem.” He smiled and then the doors burst open and he turned his head slowly to smile at the new figure that he knew well. “Hello, Junior.” He cooed.

Josten stumbled back, his breath panting heavily. “No.” He said.

Andrew looked to the both of them, knowing well Josten would not cooperate with the brother of the second. He stepped between them both, blocking the view off of Josten. “Deducting. It’s what I do, Romero, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head to one side, grinning wide. “Maybe I can still surprise you, show Junior what he missed dearly. What he should have done long ago. What will happen if he runs away from us once more.” Swiftly he brought up the gun and aimed it at Andrew.

Wymack sighed. “Come the fuck on.”

Andrew held his hands out to the side, giving him an open opportunity to shoot. Romero shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Then he fired.

However it wasn’t directed towards Andrew. He quickly moved enough so the impact of the bullet teared through Day’s skin, right through the stomach. Blood began to form onto his shirt, drenching by the second, as he fell to the floor and leaned against the nearby bench. “Surprise.” Romero laughed wildly.

Andrew’s eyes widened as he watched Day roll over to slump against the back of the bench, gasping in pain. As two of the police officers hurried over to Romero to disarm him, as he wouldn’t stop smiling and looking to Josten as if he was next. As if he did it to entertain the younger male.

All the while Andrew ran over to Day, dropping to his knees to press against the wound. Day looked up at him, his eyes wide, and whimpered.

“Everything’s fine. You are going to be okay.” Andrew told him and looked round to Aaron. “Get a fucking ambulance.” Aaron, shocked and still for a moment, turned and hurried away just as Josten got back to his feet, running over to them.

His jaw was open, his mouth forming words nobody understood as he rushed by Day’s side. Andrew stood up and stepped back as Josten jammed his right hand against the wound, applying pressure to it, and holding the back of Kevin’s head with his other hand. “Kevin?” Josten asked as Day slowly looked into Josten’s eyes. “Stay with me. _Stay with me_.” He repeated over again.

Day slipped in and out of unconsciousness.

“No, don’t worry.” Josten said, not keeping his hand off the wound. He wouldn’t, he couldn't. They had to keep Day alive. “Come on, Kevin.” Josten grimaced at the blood now all over the shirt, his hands and the floor. “You have to stay alive. You have to.” Day tried to smile, but barely could. “You have us to worry about. You have a future to gain. You have to get into Court, and win millions of games once you do, because we all know you will. I heard about the girl you like, Thea was it? Don’t you want to see her again? Don’t you want to fulfill your life? So come the fuck on Kevin, _stay alive_!”

Day laughed slightly as Josten made sure the ambulance was on its way. Andrew thought he saw tears in the corner of his eyes, but he was good at hiding them. Day lifted a bloody hand, trying to swat away Josten’s hands which wouldn’t budge from his stomach. “You gave me everything I could ever, ever…” Day’s hand rested against the wound as he groaned. “Want.” He finished. “Freedom, someone to rely on, a home.”

Josten shushed him, reassuring everything would be fine for the tenth time that minute. “You’ll make it, I promise you.” He told Day.

Josten hardly made promises.

Then the ambulance came and took him away. They didn't see much of Day after that. Neither Romero, however that was gone for good. Andrew had the urge to run over and stab the man. Yet with Aaron around, he knew that the second would be taken by the government to interrogate and perhaps kill for all that he did. For who he was and a threat to the Butcher of Baltimore.

Andrew didn’t know what would happen next, all he knew was that someone had to pay. Let it be Nathan, Romero, himself.

Someone did.

 

 

Aaron walked into his kitchen, leaned his umbrella against a wall and put down his briefcase. What a day, he thought to himself. He imagined in the next few days, his brother would probably strive up another case which would end up in mass killings of other people, or the possibility of himself. He didn't expect Andrew to have cared so much for other people. He thought at the most a tolerance for Matt. Yet once Kevin and Neil came alone, things had changed.

Whether for good or bad, he did not know.

But Andrew was different. He was _becoming_ different. It scared Aaron slightly, but it was a change of character - something to which was bringing them closer than they ever were.

He did hate his brother, however that did not mean he wouldn't take a bullet for him.

Straightening up and stretching his back with a loud cracking sound, he groaned. He needed a day off. Maybe two. Three would suffice. Possibly few hundreds if given the chance. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked across to the fridge and sighed as he opened the door. Nothing. Katelyn didn’t go shopping yet. She probably wasn’t even home from work, but he’d have to text her that they’d need to get groceries soon. Maybe a restaurant had a free spot for them. That would make her happy, a treat on him.

Sighing again, he closed the door.

Yet he didn’t move. He simply looked blankly at the closed decorated fridge door. Lost in thought, in memories and in tiredness from aching muscles.

Katelyn and him had been married for a while, and they managed to go on many vacations together. Getting a magnet for every trip taken, or every time apart. They had over dozens of pins, the fridge’s door filled up with magnets from France, Spain, Brazil, Canada, Argentine, many states in the US - even more countries on top of that. Each one was fun, especially just being together or calling when the other was gone. Aaron smiled. He didn't know he could have loved someone as much as her.

However, apart from the magnets, there was a menu on the side of the door from a Thai restaurant he and Katelyn recently went to. Aaron took it down and read it over, even the added post-it notes attached to some of the items which were both his and Katelyn’s opinion on the options.

Despite every domestic thing about it, one post-it note was more different than the others. One had the simple number 13 attached to it.

Looking at the note for a long moment, Aaron reached into his waistcoat to take out a pocket watch on a chain. He fiddled it, biting his tongue. Wondering if he really should.

Finally, considering his thoughts and decisions in front of him, Aaron put back the pocket watch and switched it with his phone.  Dialing a number, he put the phone to his ear. When the call connected, Aaron put on his stern face and said, “Put me through to Sherrinford, please… Yes, I’ll wait.”

 

 

A week after the Romero’s incident, Betsy was sitting in one of the chairs of Andrew and Josten’s living room. Josten was at the hospital, waiting for Day to be released. He survived, he was alive, which was good news to them all. However he wasn’t entirely awake, his form was bad. He was resting too much, his blood lower than before and he wouldn’t be out until the next few weeks. Josten was there most of the time, Andrew came to visit occasionally because he failed what he should have protected. But he knew it would come eventually. Knew that Day had someone looking for him, and they wouldn’t give up until he was dead. Now, however, they probably thought he was.

Perhaps Josten was next. Considering Romero was taken away, and Josten’s father would be angrier than ever having both his second in command and son away from him.

Andrew just needed to make sure that never happened.

He fiddled with his arm bands as he lied down on the couch near Bee. She was here to make sure he was doing okay, he wanted to tell her he was. But she was stubborn. She wouldn’t believe it.

It reminded Andrew of old times.

“I’m afraid it won’t.” Andrew told her to the question she never asked. But he knew what she was here for. Old times sake, afterall.

Betsy didn’t say anything, simply took her cup of tea from the table and stirred it, even when not needed to be. “I was going to ask what you plan to do for the next couple days - maybe weeks.”

Andrew didn’t look to her. “Nothing, I suppose.” He said. “Not much of interest besides the last case. Josten’s been busy in the hospital, Boyd and Wilds have their child to take care of. Renee is packed with work. Don’t care for any others.”

Betsy hummed. “But if something came up?”

“If something came up, I’d do it alone. I did it before, what would change? It would be nothing knew. Simply because it’s been over a year since Josten came, doesn’t mean I forgot how to work on my own.” Andrew stood up. “Speaking of which. You have things to do, land to keep, tea to make, friends to socialize with. I’m fine.”

Betsy pursed her lips. “You’ve been through so much over the year, Andrew. It wasn’t like before and you know it. It isn’t the same cases now. It’s not missing dogs, it's not small murders you can tell you did it by looking at their face - no. These are putting a lot on you. You broke a promise you had to keep, nothing could have come between it, but it did and you think its your fault. Trust me, it isn't. You did your best to protect them.”

Andrew’s face didn’t show anything special. Betsy’s words did nothing to him now and pointed to a stack of files on his table. “I’m going to look through these things. I'm going to find a case. And I'm going to do it alone.” He told her. She noticed how he had ignored her comment, not added onto it like he normally did. How he would say it was a waste of his time, that he didn't care or whatever Andrew Minyard often said whenever he was feeling something. However, she said nothing about it. Andrew was glad she didn't, he wouldn't have an answer to it otherwise. 

He did break a promise.

“A case?” She asked instead. Andrew sat right up, sighing from getting out of his comfortable position and took one unsolved file in hand. There was silence for a while as Andrew read more into the file, to which Betsy looked down and said, “Are you sure you are up to it?”

“Work is the best antidote to sorrow, Bee.”

“Yes, yes, I expect you’re right.” Betsy started getting out of the chair. “I’ll make you some tea, shall I?”

Andrew stopped typing for a moment. “Say, Bee?”

She smiled at him. “Yes?”

“If you ever think I’m becoming a bit,” Andrew paused. “Full of myself, cocky or over-confident, would you just say the word Amo to me? Would you?”

“Amo?” She asked.

Andrew didn’t say anything else expect for the words, “Just that.”

She nodded, smiling.

Going back to typing, Andrew noticed the envelope on the table and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?” He asked her.

“Oh, I brought that up. It was mixed up with my things.” She told him as she went to his kitchen and prepared the drinks.

Inside the envelope, Andrew pulled out a letter. Coming from the United States, and to Andrew himself. There was a small writing on the corner, however, Andrew did not know who it was from. He raised an eyebrow and slid his finger over the paper. The only thing written was:

_I’m giving you a case, Andrew. I need you to do something for me._

Andrew swallowed, slightly knowing what this was about.

But perhaps, he had time until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been about two years since the boys have known each other??? They grow up so fast.  
> Also,  
> "I don't feel so good." Kevin says as he disintegrates into nothing.


End file.
